


Echoes of the Dawn

by iduna, IncreasingLight



Series: Warp and Weft [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Blood Mage no Seisen | Dragon Age: Dawn of the Seeker, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: A Once Tranquil Inquisitor, Avexis is not a true Lavellan Inquisitor, Avexis is the Inquisitor, Avexis talks to animals, Bear Punching, Eventual Minor Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Eventual Smut, F/M, Knitting, Ladies and gentlemen we have kissing, Mama Bear Cassandra, Minor Fenris/Hawke, Not entirely Circle negative, Not entirely Orlais negative, Past Rape/Non-con, Penis Measuring Contests, Results of months of indepth study of French collaquisms and cursing, Warm fuzzy sock feels, and SMUT, discussion of Dubious Consent, discussion of blood magic, funny drunks, necromancer inquisitor, spinning, that escalated quickly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-09-10 16:14:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 74
Words: 266,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8923807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iduna/pseuds/iduna, https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncreasingLight/pseuds/IncreasingLight
Summary: Avexis has been confirmed by Bioware to be in Haven during the events of Inquisition as a Tranquil. She apparently elected Tranquility, and tells Mother Giselle that 'I no longer talk to dragons.'So this is based on the biggest what if I have ever tackled: What if Avexis had become the Inquisitor?I know that a (former) Tranquil Inquisitor has been done, and done well by the fandom, but this is a slightly unique twist, as one of the things I love to do is take an NPC and build their character out. This fic will answer pressing questions like 'Why didn't she speak during Dawn of the Seeker?', 'How would the Hinterlands look if you had someone who could talk to animals?', 'Why did she decide that losing her emotions was a good trade off for not speaking to dragons anymore?', and 'What is with the fuzzy sock tag, anyway?' Bioware owns everything, as always. *Resigned sigh*





	1. Lost and Falling

_“There you are!” The Enchanter smiled at the Tranquil gently. “There were a few people looking for you, you know! You’re a popular woman around here. Rather famous.” He straightened her Circle robes - made new for the Conclave - and shook his head over the state of her hair. “What have you been doing - crawling through spiderholes?” He plucked a cobweb from the shorn side of her head._

_The Tranquil blinked slowly, “You asked me to help you map the tunnels underneath the Temple, Enchanter. Do you not remember?”_

_The Enchanter sighed, but she didn’t understand why. “No, I remember. I have another task for you, if you don’t mind moving on.”_

_“I will comply, of course, Enchanter.”_

_“You don’t have to…” he grunted with frustration, his heavy eyebrows drawn in. “Nevermind. Just - there are some people who would like to talk to you, about… before your Rite. They will ask you some questions and I would like you to answer them, to the best of your ability. Do you feel up to that, after your exploring?”_

_“Certainly.” She handed him the scroll. “I think I have thoroughly mapped the tunnels, Enchanter. Would you like to check my work?”_

_He took the scroll, his hands shaking, and his head lowered so that she could see the silver strands laced through the darker brown. “No. No, I trust you. You… You’ve always done exceptional work. Just go talk to the Mothers. Second corridor on the left side, and three doors on the right, after the right hand turn.”_

_“I will go immediately, Enchanter.”_

_“I’ll follow as soon as I can - I just have someone I need to find before…” he shook his head. “Never mind. You‘ll be all right on your own?”_

_“I have been in the Temple for several months already, preparing for the Conclave. I will not get lost, Enchanter.”_

_The mage plucked another cobweb from her hair - this one from the unshorn side. “I know, my dear girl. You never get lost.”_

<EotD>

 

She woke, shivering and singed and damp on a stone floor. She tossed her head upwards, overwhelmed and panicking, her eyes dilating in the dim light from the torches on the wall.

Panicking? She whimpered, and even that small display of emotion should have been an impossibility. Her heart raced, and she fought to get free of the shackles that tied her wrists together, her nails - broken and frail from exploring the tunnels, and now tearing the skin. She watched the blood swell to the surface, and, like _before,_ she could feel the power that she could release if she would only tap…

The door of the cell - Maker, she was in the cells beneath the Haven Chantry, yes, she recognized them from her mapping project, she had been very thorough - burst open and she flinched at the additional light the two women had brought with them.

One of them slammed the cell door again, and her eyes widened. She whimpered again, recognition and relief and fear flooding through her in an impossible, overwhelming mix. “Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now,” the dark-haired woman snarled at her.

She stared, unable to speak through the influx of emotions drowning her words. The woman stared back, but she looked vaguely… confused. A surge of hope rose to the surface - did she, perhaps, recognize her, after all? But the woman’s face closed down, even as she bent over and lifted her scraggly hair away from her forehead. The woman cursed, fluently, in native Nevarran. “You are Tranquil? Or… were?” The hooded woman with her, also familiar, though not as much, exchanged a swift wide-eyed look with the first, but remained silent, her face closing in on her surprise nearly immediately.

She nodded, desperately, but choked again on the words in her throat as they all tried to make their way out at the same time.

“Speak. Tell me what has happened. The Temple of Sacred Ashes burns, is reduced to a pile of rubble! The Most Holy is dead! And you are the only suspect!”

She managed a single word, “Dead?”

The dark woman’s face paled. “I know you. I know your voice. Who are…”

“Cassandra?” It came out a plea. “Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast?”

Cassandra backed up until she hit the bars of the cell. “Avexis?” They stared at each other blankly for a few moments, Avexis blinked and a set of tears released to run down her cheeks and chin. “Release her,” Cassandra demanded of the other woman.

“We can’t do that,” the hooded woman, eyes narrowed, complained. “She is the only…”

“We need her mark, if Solas is to be believed,” Cassandra countered. “I… I know Avexis. I will vouch for her character. She is - was - Tranquil, Sister Leliana. By choice. It might make a difference in her stability. We can only hope. We need her, Leliana. Give me the keys. Now!”

Avexis’ scattered thoughts supplied too much information for her to sift through, but chief among them was the identity of the woman named Leliana. “Left Hand of the Divine, personal friend of Divine Justinia,” she whispered. “Red-haired, blue eyes, someone to trust and obey. Enchanter D’Marcall said…”

“Where is Galyan? Was he not with you?” Cassandra knelt down and released her shackles with shaking hands, shaking her head in turn at the torn skin and fumbling in her belt pouch for a small potion. “Drink this… I don‘t have any bandages on me. We will dress your wounds when we reach the forward camp, if…” She tossed away the rope that Leliana pressed into her hands. It hit the far wall with a muffled thump. “Nonsense, Leliana. Don’t waste my time.”

Avexis blinked at the single potion in her numb hands. “Enchanter Regalyan is in the Temple. Seeker, I… I don’t understand. What happened to me? There was… something behind me. Chasing me. I ran. I remember a woman? Why am I…” she lifted her hand and touched her forehead, feeling the raised scar. “Seeker! What‘s wrong with me?”

“A woman?” Leliana looked skeptical, a single raised eyebrow her only reaction.

Cassandra cupped her face and tilted it up, checking her eyes. “She is in shock, but we don’t have time to spare,” she told Leliana. “As for your answers, Avexis…” she sighed, and lifted her slight frame easily to her feet. “It will be easier to show you. Follow me.”

Avexis staggered out of the Chantry into the cold light of an early winter’s day, and immediately fell to her knees as she looked into the swirling, tormented vortex of the sky, her skin tainted with a sickly green. “Blessed Andraste,” she gasped. “What has happened?”

“We were hoping you could tell us,” Casssandra knelt down, and lifted her left hand so that she could see her palm - in the midst of all her other troubles, she hadn’t realized…

“What’s going on?” A green gash that went through her hand snapped and crackled and sent pain up her arms - like a dozen needles being thrust into her palm. “Seeker Pentaghast… what is that - thing? Either thing?”

The Seeker pressed her lips together. “We do not know. But it is the same magic, Avexis, that ripped the sky. We’re calling it the Breach.”

“I have one… on my hand,” Avexis managed, staring dully. “On my hand. It matches the sky.”

“I am aware,” Cassandra’s mouth twitched slightly. “And it is killing you. Avexis, do you not remember anything?”

She shook her head, lifting it up to look around her, and staggering back to her feet. “No. I wish…” she realized that people were staring at her, shifting and muttering in the ramshackle buildings that surrounded them. “Seeker… what do you ask of me?”

“Cassandra,” the woman corrected. “We are equals, here. You are Tranquil no more, Avexis. No one can order you to do anything.”

“How?” Her voice broke. “How - why?”

“The cure for Tranquility is known,” Cassandra cast eyes in her direction as they marched through the village. “Did you choose to have it reversed? Did you summon a demon, or did someone do it for you?”

“Of course not! I’m a danger to myself and others! There are dragons, everywhere! I can hear them when they get too close… Anyone could use me, like Frenic did before! I can’t, I can’t…” She broke down, and reached out a hand to support herself on the split rail fence in front of what her overwhelmed eyes identified as a smithy. “Cassandra, you’re a Seeker - you can authorize the Rite! Please. Change me back. It’s too much.”

Cassandra turned back down the hill, and tugged her forward. “I will not. I never agreed with Galyan that this was the best course of action. You were a strong Enchanter, and will be again, with practice. I hope.” She pulled her along, and Avexis, aware of eyes following her, let her tangled hair hide her face and forehead. “They think you guilty,” Cassandra continued. “I know you are not. You will have a trial. I swear it, and I will defend you myself.”

“Thank you,” Avexis swallowed, “How can you be so sure? That I‘m not guilty?”

“I bet my life on it,” Cassandra smiled, rusty and pained. “Now, let’s get you to the forward camp. It’s a bit of a walk, and we need to move quickly. Can you fight?”

Avexis stared at her dully. “It‘s been five years since I cast a spell.”

“You’ll have ample opportunity to figure it out, I imagine,” the older woman said drily, and led the way up into the mountains. Avexis followed blindly, her thoughts consumed with her plight, not her surroundings.

She was lost in thought when an entire bridge exploded beneath her feet, as eerie green energy morphed into demons. Avexis, sprawled prone on the ground, gasping for the wind knocked loose from her lungs, saw Cassandra fight them, aware that she should try to help, cast a barrier, something, anything other than suck air into her empty lungs. Cassandra dispatched them alone, the lines of her face carved into ferocity, but gentling as she turned back towards her.

“I cannot protect you this time, Avexis,” the Seeker said as she sheathed her sword. “You’re going to have to fight back.” Her eyes lit on something just behind to her left. “We might as well find out what you can do,” she stalked over and lifted a long staff up from the remains of a broken chest, a crystal set in a basic socket, and held it out. “Here. Take it.”

“I don’t know if I remember how,” Avexis whispered, but took the staff, years of Tranquil obedience kicking in. “I can’t focus, I can’t…”

Cassandra cupped her face. “I believe in you…Galyan believed in you. You were the strongest, bravest child I have ever met. Try.”

Avexis could only nod, and follow the other woman up the hill, the unaccustomed weight of the staff pressing against her spine, echoing the stability of her own, less rigid backbone. The next demon, she swung down her new weapon, and at Cassandra’s nod, she took a deep breath, and released… something.

A single snowball hit the demon in its chest. “That’s hardly helpful,” Cassandra taunted the thing. “Try again. Ice was never your strongest element, was it? Try something different, perhaps?” She yelled, frustrated, as the thing clawed, marking her armor with a tooth-aching screech. “Do it, quickly!”

Avexis glanced at her worriedly. “You’d better back up. If I do this right, it could hurt…”

“Just do it!” Cassandra was being flanked by two additional demons now.

Avexis slammed the end of her staff down, trying to channel what little remained of her muscle memory and her magic at the same time, and an arc of lightening magic descended from the sky. All three demons staggered, stunned as the magic jumped between them - and the Seeker - and she… she threw snowballs at them weakly, her mana already depleted from the single spell.

Cassandra finished them off, panting from the discharge of the spell that zapped her, her short hair trying to stand on end. “Avexis!” Her voice was rough. “That…” she saw the mage’s scared face and nodded, firm and confident. “That was excellent. I am unharmed.”

“Really?” Avexis smiled, a bare upturn of lips. She relaxed, just a little. “I can save the world with snowballs?”

“The snowballs need work,” the Seeker admitted, “but the electricity shows promise, despite the danger of injury. I have had worse, and can be more careful. Come, we have a hill to climb.”

The hill was more like a mountain, and Avexis tried her best to ignore the whining tug of her muscles, even while her brain struggled to take in the crisp winter air, the smell of ashes and brimstone, and the grit of the snow under her thin-soled feet as they ran, a million scents and sights and sensations trying to draw her attention away from their trek. “Seeker…” she panted, nearly at the end of her stamina.

“We’re almost there,” Cassandra sounded pained as well. “You can hear the fighting.”

“Who’s fighting?!”

They rounded the top of the corner and Avexis saw a tall, very bald elf and a dwarf fighting side by side. The elf was casting with a level of confidence not often seen, even in the higher echelons of the Circle, but was dressed like a… her brain stopped her from making an unwise and insulting assumption. Her own Circle robes may have been dingy and stained and torn from her recent adventures, but they still labeled her as where she was from.

The elf wasn’t from anywhere she recognized. An apostate, almost certainly. But not Dalish. And certainly not Orlesian or even Fereldan. Perhaps he was a Marcher? But why was he here, with the remains of the Chantry? And was that… a jawbone hanging around his neck? She failed to repress a shudder.

She shifted her attention to the elf’s companion, in an effort to make the situation make more sense. But a dwarf - fighting with the Chantry? His presence was almost as unlikely as the elven apostate‘s. The crossbow the dwarf held was a work of genius to her Tranquil trained eyes. It fired, with only a little recoil, and she traced the dwarf’s line of sight with her eyes. Belatedly, she realized they were surrounded and overwhelmed. She tried to cast the Chain Lightening spell again, with moderate success, as before, but was once again reduced to tossing slush. Embarrassed, she tried to direct them at what approximated the demons’ eyes.

“Seeker, is she throwing snowballs?!” The dwarf’s incredulity made Avexis wince. “Why can’t she do that shocking thing again?”

“Be quiet, dwarf. You understand nothing,” Cassandra snarled. “I will explain, if we live through this.”

“That’s a big ‘if’, Seeker.”

The elf weighed her silently as she slumped against her too-heavy staff, the last demon falling with a shriek to Cassandra's sword. He grabbed her hand possessively and directed it at the rift. Avexis screamed silently as the needles from before reached out and connected with the gap in the air, threading it together as if she was closing a wound without magic. The threads snapped, and she tugged her stinging hand away to cradle it. “What did you do?”

The elf smiled at her, “On the contrary, that was all you.”

“So I can help,” she took a shuddery breath, belatedly recognizing that the mark, at least, was attached to her, though the magic was unfamiliar. “Cassandra, I can help.”

“Thank the Maker,” the gruff Seeker sniffed, sheathing her sword, and turned to the dwarf. “Varric, this is Avexis.” She stared down at the smaller man. “You’re probably familiar with the name.”

“The little elven girl who can talk to dragons out of your personal story?” Varric’s eyebrows raised to his hairline. “Well, shit, Seeker. She’s the prisoner?”

“Apparently so,” Cassandra’s tone was dry.

“That’s gotta throw a wrench in a few of the Nightingale’s theories. Why would she blow up the Conclave?”

The elf sidled up to her with a smirk, and Avexis recoiled, a little afraid he was going to grab her hand again. “I am Solas, if there are to be introductions.” He glanced at her forehead and hummed, “And you are Tranquil?”

“Was,” corrected the Seeker. “Was Tranquil. Her Rite has been reversed.” The Seeker tightened her gauntlets, refusing to meet Avexis’ despairing eyes.

“Wait,” Varric protested, “If she’s Avexis, then she should be able to do better than throw snowballs! She should be able to call a horde of dragons down here…”

“And how would that seal the rifts?” snapped Cassandra. “Besides, she cannot compel dragons unless she has drank their blood recently. It‘s been eighteen, twenty years since…”

“Watch it, Seeker, you’re dating yourself,” the dwarf winked.

“Ugh.”

“I don’t think having you burned to a crisp or getting you eaten would help much,” Avexis whispered, eyes wide and sad. “You don’t want me to try, do you? Please say no.”

“Of course not.” Cassandra sighed. “Varric, she doesn’t have much control. She was Tranquil until… and woke up… troubled. You saw the snowballs.”

“Shit,” muttered the dwarf. “A mage without control of her magic - and a world full of demons. Just what we need.”

“I didn’t ask for the Rite to be reversed. There are demons everywhere!”

“You can speak to dragons,” Solas murmured. “Interesting.” He tilted his head and fingered his chin. “Can you control the elements?”

“You saw what I can do,” snarled Avexis, and her hair started to lift with static.

“And lightening, I see,” the elf actually smiled. “I think you will regain some control in time. Can you cast a barrier? What about fire?”

“Can we discuss this later?” Cassandra interjected impatiently. “I have to get Avexis to the forward camp. She has proved she can close the rifts, whatever her other skills, and we have no time to lose.” Solas nodded, and Varric hefted Bianca and checked her bolt supply. “You are not coming with us, Varric.”

“On the contrary, take a look over the edge, Seeker. Your soldiers don’t have control over the valley anymore.” Varric shouldered his crossbow. “You need me.” He smiled a slightly bitter smile, and Cassandra made another disgusted noise before nodding curtly, choosing not to argue any further.

And they ran on, over the makeshift fence and down the hill and into the valley, only to cross a frozen lake and head back uphill.

Avexis felt the dwarf’s suspicious eyes on her as they climbed a set of ancient steps carved directly into the mountain itself by powers unknown. “So… are you innocent?”

“Yes. Yes, she is,” Cassandra argued instantly.

“Can’t she answer for herself?”

“I don’t remember,” Avexis panted, as they climbed. Cabins were on fire all around them, but they didn’t have time to try to put them out. Hopefully the occupants had already been evacuated. “I don’t remember anything.”

“Should have spun a story,” but Varric seemed slightly friendlier.

“That is what you would have done, Varric,” Cassandra criticized. “Avexis is…”

“Is a grown woman, capable of answering her own questions,” Varric countered. “Aren’t you, Fancy?”

“Fancy?” Avexis shivered a little.

“You need a nickname, if we’re going to be hanging out,” Varric smile was definitely warmer. “Fancy it is. The accent and everything.”

“Accent?”

“You’re Orlesian, kid. You speak Common with an accent thick enough to slice.” Varric looked at her with pity. “You really didn’t get out much, did you?”

“I’ve been in the Circle since I was seven,” Avexis shivered again. “Except for the bit with the blood mages… and I was made Tranquil before the Circles fell. So yes, you might say ‘I didn‘t get out much.’”

“You‘re gonna have some catching up to do. Things are different, this side of a Circle Tower.”

“Another rift!” Cassandra yelled, and everything dissolved into fighting.

“Don’t bother with the snowballs, Fancy! We got this, just focus on the split in reality!” Varric joked.

“Sound advice,” Solas chuckled, and cast a barrier over her. “Focus your will - Avexis.”

She closed her eyes and reached out her hand and focused, trying to ignore the demons shrieking around her. In her mind, she heard her early mentor, “Willpower is the key to any spell, child.” The memory of the woman’s soft voice warmed her, despite her bleak surroundings, a flash of colored memory from her past tinting her grey, black and green present. “Draw the power from within yourself, and direct it outward, and will it to take the form you wish.”

A snapping noise surprised her and she flicked her eyes open. The rift had stunned the demons around them. “Do that again!” Varric yelled at her. “Whatever it was, it worked!”

Avexis furrowed her forehead, feeling the scar from her Rite bunch up thickly in the wrinkles there. Perhaps because of the mark’s outside source of magic, it hadn’t depleted her own mana. Experimentally, she concentrated and cast a shimmering barrier around Cassandra. It popped like a soap bubble with the first brush of a Terror‘s claw, but…

“Very good,” Solas complimented. The last demon was dispatched, and Avexis raised her hand to the rift again, and wove it closed. “Yes, you are becoming quite proficient at this.” He sounded smug, and Avexis moved away from him and his condescension.

“I’m casting spells they teach to apprentices, with rather less success,” she said in his general direction. “Don’t coddle me. I’m not a child who needs praise for every minor achievement.”

He lifted an eyebrow and nodded curtly. “Very well. But I am impressed by how quickly you are regaining control. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, after…”

“You don’t know me,” snarled Avexis. “Before I elected Tranquility, I passed my Harrowing. I was a brilliant pupil, one of the best the White Spire had ever seen, and the only one with my unique talents. I was on track to become one of the youngest Senior Enchanters ever.”

Varric frowned, “Then why…”

Avexis looked down, “We should keep moving.”

Cassandra sheathed her sword. “Leave her alone, both of you.”

The forward camp was full of the wounded and dead, and Avexis stared around her in horror before approaching the desk where a Chantry representative - and the Left Hand - stood arguing. About her. She drew herself in, huddling mentally, and didn’t realize she was being asked for input until the question was repeated. “You want me to decide…”

“It’s your mark,” Solas was condescending again.

Avexis gritted her teeth. “Cassandra,” she tried to protest.

“Solas is correct,” she sounded stiff. “You should decide your own fate. Either way is dangerous.”

“Then let’s charge,” she said quietly. “I guess. I… know the tunnels through the mountains fairly well, but if there are demons there, the scouts are likely dead. Even if they had the maps I made for Enchanter Regalyan, there were pitfalls, and traps left behind by Haven‘s dragon cult.” Leliana frowned - perhaps at the mention of the maps. Varric made an involuntary sound of protest, but Avexis bristled. “Look, I have no idea what I’m doing. You know what I was until I woke up this morning. I can’t be trusted to make these decisions. I’m unstable, unreliable. I could become an abomination literally any minute…” she caught her breath. “Just… just charge. The sooner we move, the sooner this ends, and I can go through the Rite again. Or die.” She marched away towards the gates dividing them from the battle just beyond, and refused to look back. “Either way works for me.”

“Seeker,” Varric asked, very quietly indeed, so that she could barely overhear, despite her better hearing, “Why did Avexis ask to be made Tranquil?”

“I am not at liberty to say.”

“What a waste of true talent,” Solas murmured. “But no more than could be expected of a Circle mage.”

Avexis lifted her middle finger at him over her shoulder, and Varric whistled. “Take that, Chuckles.”


	2. Losing People

“We’ve lost a lot of people getting you here,” the Templar Commander - she had already forgotten his given name, and in her fog of confusion she desperately missed the focus that being Tranquil had provided her - was staring at her strangely. She shifted, coloring under his regard, sensing that somehow, he knew who she was.

It was probably her eyes. Even among elves, violet eyes were rare, and though her hair was dull with lack of sunlight, not to mention in need of a good wash, it was still blonde. People knew her story. She had grown up with people recognizing her, when the mages of the White Spire were still allowed to go out into Val Royeaux.

Still, he was just what she needed to add to the odd set of people she had met today: one condescending elf, a nosy dwarf with a weird crossbow obsession, a scary spymaster who looked like she was one dagger away from knifing her in the back, and the embodiment of Hot Templar. Seeker Cassandra was the only normal one, and since they had met up with the others, she was barely saying a word.

Along with the rest of the rush of emotions that she couldn’t currently take the time to process, she was all too aware of the blood flowing to her face. “Come, Avexis,” Cassandra was pulling her in the other direction, towards the Temple. “We should not delay any longer.”

“Avexis…” Hot Templar’s face had gone pale with her given name. “Seeker Pentaghast, the prisoner is… is she that Avexis?”

So he hadn’t recognized her after all?

“We will discuss it later,” the Seeker promised curtly.

“Assuming we survive,” Varric muttered under his breath. “Don’t forget that part. You promised to explain to us if we survive. But it isn‘t a common name, Curly.”

“Don’t be such a pessimist,” Avexis tried to breathe normally. “I could be the only one to die, given that I’m the one who has to link up with the glowy green gap in the sky. You could be celebrating my heroic sacrifice by dinner. Toast me with a nice rich Pinot Noir. It used to be my favorite.”

“You got it, Fancy, even if I‘m more an ale man myself. I‘m sure the tavern can dig something up.”

The Commander pulled away, much to her relief, and helped up one of the wounded soldiers. “I wish you luck,” he offered over his shoulder. “All of you,” he met her eyes again briefly, and she winced involuntarily. “For the record, those rifts are everywhere. Do try not to die? Without the mark, we‘re still all lost.”

Cassandra grunted, “I will not let her die, Commander.”

“I believe you, Seeker.” And with that he was gone, and Avexis put aside the flood of completely inappropriate emotions and words in favor of attempting to find a semblance of concentration to direct towards the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

They waded through ankle deep ash and stone dust, coughing. Varric pulled out a garish handkerchief and tied it over his mouth and nose. After watching him a moment, Cassandra pulled out her own, and handed it to Avexis. It was embroidered with tiny hearts, and Avexis blinked at them in confusion mixed with inappropriate amusement. “Take this. Are you injured? I can spare another potion if…”

“I’m fine,” Avexis shuddered, looking down. “Keep the handkerchief for yourself. Cassandra… where was I found?”

“There,” she pointed, and Avexis stumbled towards the site over fallen walls and shattered stone blocks, looking around her at the twisted forms of what used to be people, unwilling to admit even to herself who she was looking for, hoping beyond hope she‘d find nothing. She fell to her knees. “No…” she reached out, with her shaking marked hand, and removed a familiar glowing amulet, bright with an embossed Chantry Sunburst, from a body. The light went out as soon as it was parted from the body. The metal was hot enough to burn, but Avexis curled her fingers around it anyway. It wasn’t like her hand wasn’t already scarred with a mark not of her choosing. “Seeker-”

“Yes,” the Seeker confirmed, and turned away. “I am sorry. We don’t have time to… after we make the attempt, perhaps, we can try to identify the dead…” her voice sounded thick.

Avexis curled her other hand around the amulet as well, her shoulders shaking. “But Cassandra-” the tears dripped down. “He… he was right behind me! Only a minute or two… How was I saved, when…”

Cassandra wouldn’t look at her, “You fell out of the Fade. The scouts that saw it happen reported a glowing woman behind you. Just as you said.”

“The Fade?” Avexis lifted her face, covered with grit and as white as ash beneath. “I was in the Fade? Why don‘t I remember? Am I possessed?”

“I believe that is why you are no longer Tranquil,” Solas observed, his elbow bent so that his hand reached his chin. “If you came into contact with a spirit in the Fade…”

“Or a demon,” interjected Cassandra.

“Then it is likely the reason behind the reemergence of your abilities.”

“Can it be reversed?” Avexis pleaded. “Am I an abomination?”

“We do not know,” Cassandra said bluntly. “I would not recommend attempting the Rite. It might work. It might kill you. We need you whole and without impairment.” She marched on, outwardly implacable. “And we’ve wasted enough time.”

“Seeker, you’re a hard woman,” Varric protested. “That’s her mentor, in the dust. She thinks she‘s possessed. Give her a moment to breathe.”

“My… guardian, of sorts,” Avexis corrected, stumbling back to her feet. “My mentor joined the rebels at Andoral’s Reach.” She stared down at the amulet. “Enchanter D‘Marcall… Galyan took care of me, when I became Tranquil, before the Circles fell. He… he knew I could be taken advantage of, in that state. So he took it on himself to keep me with him, bring me with the other loyalists and Tranquil going to the Conclave. He tried to protect me.” The tears ran down her face and dripped off her chin into the ashes with a soft hiss and puff of smoke. “He said enough people had taken advantage of me already.”

Varric cursed, “Shit, Seeker, he was like her father, and you’re just going to keep marching her on?”

“He was my lover, Varric,” Cassandra spat back, the last consonant echoing, without turning. Varric cursed again, eyes wide. “If we do not keep moving, we are all dead, dwarf. I will do my grieving later. When living allows it.”

Solas coughed, “Perhaps we should…”

Avexis slipped the amulet around her neck. Solas came closer and lifted it, closing his eyes. “An amulet of focus,” he smiled. “A wise choice for the final remembrance of a man who was a guiding force in your life.” He dropped it, and it fell between her breasts, a heavy, comforting weight. “It will help you, I think. Give you clarity.” His tone was kind now.

She eyed him with suspicion, “That’s refreshing. I could use some fucking clarity.” She batted his hand away and moved to follow the Seeker. “Let me do my job.”

The Temple itself was familiar to her, even lacking in walls and many of the landmark statuary, and she guided them through it easily. “Red lyrium?” She heard Varric hiss at one point, just before the strange crystal started trying to sing in her bones. “Seeker…”

“I see it, Varric.”

“What’s it doing here?!”

The Seeker didn’t reply, and didn’t stop moving.

And then, the voices began. Never a good sign, especially for a mage.

_“Keep the sacrifice still!”_

“Please tell me I’m not the only one hearing this,” Varric said shakily, and Avexis relaxed slightly. Not just her, then.

_“Go, warn them!”_

_“What‘s going on here?_ ”

At the sound of her voice, a dull and bland monotone, Avexis stopped. “Do I really sound like that?”

Varric blinked at her, and chuckled. “Nah. Maybe when you were Tranquil, Fancy.” His eyes twinkled. “You’re a little more… animated now.”

“Oh,” Avexis wrinkled her forehead. “I don’t remember any of this.” She held her head, her fingers scooped up into her hair. “Cassandra… why can‘t I remember? Who was that?”

“That was the Most Holy,” Cassandra’s face was tragic. “She spoke to you. She warned you.”

“Divine Justinia? Why was I headed to a room where Divine Justinia… I was supposed to answer some questions about the maleficar that - took me, for a group of Revered Mothers - Why… why…” she gasped, trying to catch her breath, her throat closing off from the ash in the air and the strange sensation of the lyrium all around them.

“Ask why later,” Cassandra’s voice was almost gentle. “Perhaps, in time, you’ll remember - if…”

Avexis shook her head. “I don’t want to remember. I… I don’t want to remember any of this!” She backed away slowly. “Seeker, I can’t… I can’t…” the red lyrium pulsed hotly at her, irritating her nerve endings, making her feel like she was being shredded by the weird dissonant song in her head and vibrating through her veins.

“Avexis, please…” Cassandra begged, stepping forward. “We need you.”

“How am I even supposed to reach that thing?!” Avexis pleaded. “I can’t do this. I can’t…”

“Can’t never did anything, Fancy,” Varric grinned, but his eyes were desperate. “You’ve got to try.”

“Connect with the lower rift, and the Breach will follow,” Solas assured her.

Avexis panted, “I don’t have a choice, do I? You won’t let me…”

“We don’t have a choice. We have to ask this of you,” Cassandra looked genuinely upset. “Avexis, I know it is painful, but-”

“Just stop.” She shook her head, staring at the ground, and raised her hand. “Stop!”

With a roar and a snap, chaos broke loose.

<EotD>

 

Some hours later, Cassandra and the Commander convened over her body. “She’s sleeping, Adan informs me, nothing more sinister, despite the knock on her head from the Pride demon.” Cassandra sat forward in her chair, and hung her hands between her legs. “Cullen, this - this is a disaster. Avexis wasn’t even supposed to be at the Temple. She was a Tranquil. They weren‘t being included in the talks.”

Cullen’s fingers hovered over her head, but then brushed the matted hair on her temple away, to reveal the raised scar sprawling across her forehead. “I see. Why is her brand…”

“I don’t know,” Cassandra shoved at a small box of herbal medicines with her foot. “I do know Avexis chose the Rite, after she had been Harrowed for three years. Gal… Enchanter Regalyan told me it had to do with the prevalence of dragons, and the unrest of certain mage elements. He said Avexis worried about being used by another group the way she had been when she was only 10 years old. As she aged, her powers grew stronger, and she could do even more damage, in the wrong hands.”

“The maleficar made her drink dragon’s blood, I believe?” Cullen shuddered.

“How did you know?”

Cullen backed away from Avexis in response to the threat in Cassandra’s voice, and rested his hands on his sword. “I read, Seeker. And it was brought up during my Templar education - as an unusual case of a mage using blood magic against her will. I was interested, given her youth, and looked up the case on my own later. We would be… we’re about the same age. I always wondered what had happened… But I never dreamed that that mage would have chosen…” he shook his head, “Forced upon her, perhaps, given her more unusual talents. But not chosen. She had survived so much. She’s not a risk to herself, or others. Earlier she showed control, if not quite mastery. It seems a misuse of the Rite and a waste of a good Enchanter.”

The mark on Avexis’ hand crackled and popped, interrupting Cassandra‘s planned response. “We should fetch Solas,” Cassandra said, her face tired. “He said he had a theory he wanted to test, since she can close the rifts.” She didn’t move, fatigue and worry apparent in the drooping of her body.

“I’ll stay with her, Cassandra,” Cullen assured her. “You should get some sleep. If you can.”

Cassandra eyed him, straightening slightly. “You will, will you?” She smiled wryly. “I suppose I trust you. No one else but Solas and Adan comes in here. Not even Leliana or Josephine, do you understand? Not unless I vet them myself.”

“Worried about the rumors?”

Cassandra made a disgusted noise, “Avexis is not the Herald of Andraste. She is - was - a confused, kidnapped, abused little girl who was forced to do the will of the worst kind of maleficar. She recovered, remarkably well, her First Enchanter thought. The Senior Enchanters of the White Spire considered her stable enough to undertake her Harrowing. But her early experiences left their mark. She,” Cassandra laughed, “She became the sort of staunch loyalist that every Knight-Commander dreams of for their Circle. She mentored apprentices, showed exceptional control - and Montsimmard, where she was transferred at her request when she came of age, to be nearer to Galyan - never had a rat problem.” She spoke dryly. “Avexis directed them elsewhere, because she despised the creatures. She never killed a single one, just - sent them into the wilderness, where they could live ferally.”

“Then why would she decide…”

“She had her reasons,” Cassandra’s voice broke. “Between the dragons emerging, the College factions’ instability and infighting, and her own relative infamy, she worried someone would try again. Galyan said she fretted about it. She was afraid to sleep, because demons approached her in her dreams, shaped like dragons.” Cassandra faced her hands, clasped in front of her, white knuckled and tight with tension. “Regalyan supported her request. He said it was her decision. I did not. It looked like cowardice to me, when she was so strong and such a wonderful - example. And then…” she stopped, “The rest of her story is too personal for me to share for her. But Galyan and I stopped - seeing each other over the disagreement.”

“I’m shocked that lasted as long as it did,” Cullen muttered, half to himself. “Templars and mages are one thing - when shut up in a tower together things happen - but a Seeker and a Senior Enchanter?”

Cassandra snorted, “Where there is a will there is a way. Anyone will tell you I have a very strong will. And as the Right Hand of the Divine, I found many reasons over the years, to visit Montsimmard. The Grand Enchanter was their First Enchanter, after all.” Her face pinched. “The last thing I said to Galyan was that he was a fool, projecting his own insecurities onto Avexis.” She looked back down at her hands, and then shoved herself up. “I’ll go get Solas. And perhaps Adan.” She cast a worried glance back at the woman on the bed, who was muttering to herself, and twisting. “Her sleep does not look comfortable.”

“’Grey’,” Cullen echoed one of the few recognizable words. “Grey what?”

“There are many things that are grey,” Cassandra strode for the door and yanked it open, letting a breeze of chilly air rush inside along with a scattering of loose snowflakes. “But Avexis was never one of them. You‘ll see… if she wakes up.”

“Maker, let her wake up.” Cullen met her eyes, his face grim. “All of this means nothing without her mark.”

 


	3. Building Up

Avexis woke, shaky with hunger and gasping with a remembered… dream? “Merde,” she whimpered. “Non, non, non, non…” she staggered to her feet and to the desk with a mirror. She lifted her hair - incredibly tangled with her restless slumber and unfortunate adventures - away from her forehead and she moaned in despair, invisible icy fingers ghosting down her back. “No…” she whispered again, but this time in Common, remembering.

She wasn’t in Orlais anymore. It wasn’t a dream.

It was impossible for it to be a dream and for her still to be Tranquil. But somehow… she had still hoped.

All that remained of the Sunburst seal on her forehead was a colorless scar where the lyrium brand had been, and that nearly flat and faded with many years. The nightmare was real.

Her door slammed open and she spun to face the intruder, a sharp word on her lips.

The word died away with the sight of the elven servant that dropped the box at her first glimpse of her. “Oh! I’m so sorry!”

“For what?”

The elf flung herself to her knees in front of her, and Avexis rushed to her, and helped her up. The other woman seemed determined to prostrate herself. “I humbly beg your forgiveness!”

“Say again?” Avexis shoved the other woman to her feet by force. “Come on, you’ll get splinters, laying there like that.”

“You’re the Herald of Andraste!” The elf looked up at her with shining eyes, “Come to show all of us that we were wrong to treat the mages so harshly, and that elves are the children of the Maker, and that Tranquil should be treated with respect and honor…”

“Wow,” Avexis nodded solemnly, trying not to crack an angry smile at how quickly lies could spread. “That‘s quite a mission. Sad to say that‘s the first I‘ve heard of it,” She nodded her chin up, and indicated the box. “What’s in there?”

“Elfroot,” breathed the starstruck elf. “Elfroot, Herald.” The woman shook herself. “I’m to tell you there’s a change of clothes for you in the chest… and can I brush your hair?”

Avexis reached up and touched the side of her hair that Galyan had normally kept clean shaven, now fuzzy with three days growth, and then the tousled braid above it. “I would… appreciate that.” She laughed, aware it was the first time since she had… woken up. It died an early death. “I’m rather a mess, am I not?”

“Allow me to help you, milady,” the elf glowed as she steered her towards the chair before the mirror. “You’re all anyone is talking about. You sealed the breach, and kept the demons from killing us all…”

“With snowballs,” she remembered, trying not to yank back against the enthusiastic brushing of her helper.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said more clearly. “So… tell me. What happens now? Am I being transported to Val Royeaux for trial, as the Seeker promised, or…”

“A trial?!” The elf shook her head, and combed her hair over the undercut to hide the growth. “I haven’t heard anything about that. No, you’re wanted in the Chantry as soon as you wake. That’s what the Lady Seeker said, anyway.”

“The Chantry?” Avexis spun, and the elf tsked.

“Don’t move, my lady. I’ll have this twisted up and lovely in no time. I wish we had time to wash it…”

A small longing moan came unwillingly from Avexis’ lips. To be clean… a hot bath… “Oh, don’t we?”

“Later,” the elf promised, with a wide grin. “I’ll have one waiting for you, Herald. There!” She patted the hairstyle, and Avexis blinked. She had braided a slender braid up into an elaborate bun vaguely reminiscent of a flower behind her ear on the side of the undercut. “Until we find a razor to fix your usual style, this will do well enough, I hope?”

A colorless memory of Regalyan combing out her hair and running a straight razor to keep the edge of the braid neat and stubble-free ran through her head, and she closed her eyes, a swell of grief overcoming her and erasing the remnants of her earlier amusement. “It’s lovely. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” the elf clutched the brush to her chest. “I’ll… I’ll just go report to the Seeker. She wanted to know as soon as you woke. At once, she said.” She left, backing away.

Avexis sighed, realizing all at once that the devoted elf was going to sell her hair to pilgrims. “You do that,” she turned and faced the mirror, and her pale violet eyes stared back, fringed with dark lashes, lined with weariness and grief at the corners, creased around her mouth, and far, far too pale from too many days spent indoors. “I look old,” she said aloud, and then shook her head. It hadn’t mattered when she was Tranquil. It shouldn’t matter now.

Maybe, if the Breach was stable, this meeting at the Chantry was to arrange her Rite. “Assuming I’m not an abomination, anyway,” her throat closed off and she shut her eyes again, wondering if she’d be able to tell if she was, and stood to find the clothes the elf had mentioned. She was freezing, the drafts coming in around the windows and doors making her shiver.

There were socks in the chest. Wonderful, dry, warm, socks. She actually sunk to the floor and held them to her breast, feeling the icy wooden drafty floor cut through her thin stockings. In the next minute she had stripped the filthy things off, pulled on the woolen ones, and stretched them out to revel in the immediate warmth, wriggling her toes like a child.

There had never been such bliss.

The rest of the clothes were… dubious, designed with a dragon motif that was almost insulting considering who she was and what she was known for. But they looked warm and well-made, and warm was the important thing. Not vanity, she told herself firmly, even though she felt a twinge of regret. Galyan had always made sure she had neat, clean clothes after she had become Tranquil… he had made sure she wasn’t slovenly, or forgot to care for herself while sinking into her work like many of her colleagues…

Her throat tightened again as she finished dressing, and she dissolved into a flood of tears this time, rocking a little in her loss, and abandoning herself to it, unable to resist the pull of her colorless memories, already being tinted backwards with sorrow.

Sometime later, there was another knock, and a cautious, “Enchanter Avexis?”

She scrambled to her feet, conscious of her appearance, and how long it had been since someone had called her by that title. “Yes…” she wiped her eyes. “Come in?”

The Commander - his name still escaping her memory, much to her consternation - opened the door. “We… I mean, Cassandra… heard you were awake. Are you well enough to join us in the Chantry?”

Avexis backed up to the dresser, confused at her own reaction. She had no reason to fear him. “Of course. I’ll… I’ll be right there.”

The Commander hesitated, “If you’re unwell, I could tell her. Or fetch someone to help. We’re short on healers, I’m afraid, but Adan, or Solas might…”

She shook her head. “No, I was just on my way out the door-”

He quirked a very small smile - nearly too small to see. “You’re not wearing boots. You won‘t get far in this weather without boots.”

Avexis stared down at her feet, clad in the thick socks. “Yes. I had… forgotten. Sorry.”

“I’m in no hurry,” he was speaking gently, as if she was something fragile. “I’ll just wait outside.”

“Thank you,” she offered, and turned back to the chest to fetch the provided footwear. “I’ll be right out.”

The walk to the Chantry was done in silence, and accompanied with gawking villagers. Cassandra met them at the entrance. Avexis offered her wrists, meeting the Seeker‘s eyes.

Cassandra emitted a disgusted noise. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She turned her towards the room at the back of the small Chantry. “I’m not arresting you.”

“So I’m not going to Val Royeaux?” Avexis cast a surprised glance at the Chancellor as she slipped through the door, sneering at her from his corner. “Why did you have the Commander escort me if I‘m not going on trial?”

“It has been an hour and a half since your attendant told us you were awake,” Leliana observed coldly. “We were unsure if you had run away, or…”

“Or were unwell,” Cassandra glared at the Left Hand. “Commander Cullen offered to make sure…”

“That I wasn’t a possessed abomination?” Avexis’ tone was light, almost relieved.

“I knew you weren’t - that,” Cullen cleared his throat. “I heard you… crying on my own way to the Chantry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop - but you were rather - Seeker Pentaghast said I should…”

“I asked him to go because I don’t cope with tears well,” Cassandra pressed her lips together. “But since we’re discussing it…” she took a huge breath, as if steeling herself, “How do you feel?” Leliana hid a smile by bowing her head.

“How don’t I feel?!” Avexis hid her face in her hands. “How does anyone manage all of this, day in and day out? I’m confused, mostly. I’m trying… I’m trying not think of everyone who died… people I knew and that I…” she shivered and wrapped her arms around her middle. “Is it cold in here?”

Cullen exchanged a glance with Cassandra, flushed a little under her pointed glare, and stripped off his overcoat. “Here.”

Avexis looked at the furry thing with a degree of disbelief. “Really? Aren’t you…”

“I’ll be fine,” he cleared his throat. “You can give it back later.”

Avexis slung it around her shoulders. “Thank you. Again.”

“Satisfied, Leliana?” Cassandra’s tone was superior.

“I was the one sure she was fine, you two were the ones fretting that something dire had happened,” the spymaster narrowed her eyes. “Will she help us?”

“I’m standing right here. Talk to me,” Avexis felt her anger rising and clenched her fist. “My helping nearly killed me…”

“You fixed your own mistakes, from my way of thinking,” the Chancellor interrupted. “What happened? Did you get cold feet after seeing the destruction you wrought?”

“My feet aren’t cold anymore,” Avexis flushed when she realized she had said that out loud. “Sorry, I’m having a small problem with idiom and the mixing of languages in my head. A focus thing, I think. I just… my feet were cold, earlier. There were wool socks in the chest with the scary clothing. I think they’re the best thing I’ve ever felt. My feet are so happy - it‘s a bit distracting when the rest of me is so miserable.” She wrapped up her speech weakly.

Cullen chuckled, but stifled it when both Cassandra and Leliana glared at him. “Sorry,” he echoed, “It was…”

“Funny. Yes, I suppose it was,” Cassandra said dryly.

“If I’m not being arrested, I would be happy to aid the cause, however I can, just as I did when I was Tranquil, or whatever that would look like now.” Avexis continued, ignoring the Chancellor, as the others all seemed to be doing. “I assume you’re asking because of my hand? I‘m no good at combat - in combat? - until I can figure out how better to channel my mana again.”

“You’re the only one who can seal rifts,” Leliana sighed, clearly unhappy with that fact. “So… we need you to continue to do that. In addition, I’d like you to seek out a Mother Giselle in the Hinterlands…”

Avexis’ eyes went wide. “You want me to go to Ferelden? Really? Aren’t there bears, and wolves, and…” her voice squeaked, but the fear on her face wasn’t funny, “dragons?”

Leliana smirked, “All of those things and more.” She lifted her chin, so that her eyes were shadowed under her hood. “You aren’t scared of dragons, are you? Why would a mage who can control them fear them?”

Avexis temper leapt up and took control of her mouth. “Why would I be scared of dragons? I don’t suppose you’ve ever been kidnapped and forced to drink their blood? And then to _talk_ to them, force the most fearsome thing in nature to do the bidding of the worst kind of scum, and then, to wake afterward when the spell wears off, and know that you were capable of such a thing?” She spat on the floor before the spymaster. “I have a reason to fear dragons, Sister Nightingale. You don’t know me. You should not judge.”

The spymaster inclined her head, “I beg your pardon, Herald.”

“And that’s another thing. How am I the Herald of Andraste? I have an elf saving my hairs - is the plural of ‘hair’ hairs or hair in Common? - for use as holy relics.”

Cassandra choked and the Chancellor’s look of horror almost made the title worth it. But it was the spymaster who answered. “The scouts’ story of what happened when you fell out of the rift has spread. Some are claiming that the woman behind you was Andraste.” Cassandra fidgeted with the map markers before her.

“I don’t suppose you have anything to do with that,” Avexis began suspiciously, eyeing the scary spymaster. The Left Hand of the Divine did not answer.

“It’s quite a title,” Cullen began.

“And there’s nothing I can do about it, true or not. I just want it on the record, here, in front of Chancellor… what was your name again?” Avexis addressed the man directly. “I’m having trouble remembering names. Lack of focus. Cassandra I know, Sister Nightingale I wouldn‘t dare forget, the Templar Commander has a convenient title…” she didn’t reach the dark haired woman in the corner before he answered.

“Roderick,” he snarled.

“Really? Roderick? Did your parents hate you? Okay… Roderick, that I never bloody claimed to be the Herald of Andraste, and that any so-called ‘hairs of the Herald’, while genuine, do not possess healing properties or any such nonsense.” She declared clearly. “If there are any Orlesians in the crowd, tell them, ‘Vous êtes vraiment trop con’. Use the familiar form, if appropriate. ‘Tu es vraiment trop con.’” She glanced at Cullen, “That means ‘you’re really fucking stupid‘, if you don’t speak Orlesian. Let me know if you want it translated into elven - I‘m not fluent, but who is, these days? Maybe we could put up signs! Your Ambassador looks Antivan… perhaps she can assist?” The quiet woman had ceased taking notes in favor of staring, wide eyed with shock as Avexis‘ words sunk in.

Cullen snorted again, and stifled his reaction when Cassandra turned her critical gaze on him. “Sorry.”

“Yes, I know,” and then, oddly, Cassandra smiled. “Avexis has always been… funny.” She looked away for a moment, and when she looked back there were tears in her eyes. “It’s good to have you back.”

For the first time, it felt like the truth, but instead of admitting it, Avexis said, “The jury is still out on that one, Seeker. You might want to give it time. You did promise me a trial.”

The Commander started shifting boxes around in the corner, and Cassandra called him out. “Commander Cullen, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Looking for parchment,” he looked up and grinned. “I think we need to make a few signs.” The women’s combined confused looks made him cough. “To declare the Inquisition reborn, naturally. Not necessarily the other thing. Not now, anyway.” He glanced at Avexis, and continued, “At least until we can be sure that the hair is being sold.” His eyes twinkled, “Not that I would consider buying a strand or three.”

“Don’t you dare,” Avexis criticized to the accompaniment of Cassandra’s disgusted noise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another quote from Rob Thomas' 'Pieces'. It's not the end of the quotes from that song. Just saying...


	4. Peace and the Tranquil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I felt like posting a chapter. Happy Boxing Day, for those of you that this is a real holiday for. For me, it was just the day when I had to get rid of all the boxes that the presents came in... 
> 
> So now that I've cleaned like a madwoman, I'm going to post a chapter as a reward.

Avexis felt Solas weighing her, and finding her wanting. “I will remain, then, for the time being,” he stated implacably.

“Was that in doubt?” Avexis didn’t bother to suppress her disdain at the thought that the elf would just leave them all to deal with the Breach while he sought out a safe place to sleep. “Just leaving would be incredibly selfish.”

“I am an apostate surrounded by Chantry forces,” Solas began.

“Cassandra will protect you. It’s what she does. We need your help!” Avexis clenched her fist. “The Breach harms everyone. Do you really think that sleeping through it is going to help?” Solas’ face was inscrutable, closed off. She couldn’t read him at all.

“No,” he said at last, narrowing his eyes. “Which is why I will stay.”

“Good.” Avexis relaxed. “I’ll take my leave, then. I just wanted to make sure that you weren’t injured, in any case. The last thing I remember of the battle was you unconscious after that Pride demon shocked the shit out of you. I think I lost consciousness after that…”

“An increasingly normal result. In any case, I am well.”

“Bonsoir, then.”

“Good evening.” Avexis pulled away and made her way down the stairs, her feet directed towards her own cabin, trying not to fume at the stubborn elf. If Cassandra hadn’t assured her that he was some sort of Fade expert… but as it was he was the only one with any theory about what had happened.

Now if she could just button her lips up enough to keep from alienating him… but if he said one more smug, superior thing about spirits, blood magic, or…

She was just past the makeshift tavern run by the buxom Flissa when she heard her name called out by Ambassador Unetelle* - what was the woman‘s name again? “Enchanter Avexis? Enchanter Avexis!” She sighed and stopped so the Antivan woman could catch up with her.

“Oui, Ambassador? What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to have… a word.” The woman appeared to brace herself. “The Inquisition is struggling to forge alliances and raise funds to help close the Breach. We need to bring people together - I wanted to ask some questions about your background, to see if there was anyone that we could contact…”

Avexis stared, and answered, her words slow, “I’m no one, Ambassador.” She sighed, and apologized, shifting her body with fatigue. It had been a long day. “I’m sorry, I‘m afraid I‘ve forgotten your name.”

“Je m’appelle Josephine Montilyet,” the woman actually curtseyed. “Enchantée, Enchanteresse Avexis.”

“Oh, you speak Orlesian!” Her face lit up as the words tripped off her tongue in her native language. “That’s such a relief, you don’t even know. I wasn‘t joking about my issues with Common.”

“A little,” the woman replied modestly. “I was educated in Val Royeaux.” An involuntary sigh escaped both women’s lips. “I admit, I miss the city. Haven is…”

“Haven is a dump,” Avexis said, looking around her despondently.

“It’s such a relief to hear someone say that out loud,” the Ambassador cleared her throat. “But your background… surely there‘s someone we could approach…”

“I’ve been in the Circle since I was a child,” she looked down. “My records, if there are any, would have been at the White Spire, and I understand it was largely destroyed after the rebellion there…” She had a moment’s wonder about the fate of her phylactery before she shook her thoughts free of the memories of her childhood home.

“Yes, of course, I‘m sorry if I‘m distressing you,” the Ambassador schooled her face before she could look disappointed. “Perhaps a Senior Enchanter? What about your mentor?”

“My mentor left the White Spire with the rebel mages. I haven‘t had a letter from her since she informed me that she supported independence,” Avexis explained, “ and that was more than five years ago. And Senior Enchanter D’Marcall is dead. I was Tranquil, Ambassador. I didn’t really have… friends, just colleagues after the Rite.” Her throat closed off, “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can help in this manner.”

“It’s all right, we‘re no worse off than before,” the Ambassador reached out and touched her arm, not bothering to hide the pity in her eyes. Avexis managed to not flinch at the kind gesture, and quelled her resentment. “I also wanted to let you know I‘ve sorted out some more necessary items of clothing, saddlebags, and toiletries for you. You‘ll find them in your cabin, including the key that fits your chest, so you don‘t have to worry about people stealing your things when you are away from Haven. In addition, I want you to let me know if you experience any…” she glanced at Avexis’ ears, “prejudice, based on your race.”

“No one has called me knife-ear or rabbit, at least not yet,” Avexis reassured her, her shoulders relaxing a bit, and feeling a pang of guilt at her resentment of the other woman‘s kindness. “And… thank you, Ambassador Montilyet.”

“Oh, we can use the familiar form!” The woman smiled, and held out her hand, “Call me Josephine, or Josie, if you like. That’s what Leliana calls me.”

“Josie,” Avexis said softly, taking her hand. “Merci.”

“We could both use a friend, I think,” Josie folded her fingers around her hand, and then jumped, “If you‘ll excuse me, I have a million other things to do before I can stop working for the evening. Bonsoir, Avexis.”

“Bonsoir… Josie.”

That first night seemed endless. Avexis listened for some time as the Seeker snored in their shared cabin, at her own insistence, not Cassandra’s, worried that she would morph into an abomination in her sleep and hurt someone. It turned out to be a moot point, as sleep eluded her entirely. In her fatigue, she even tried to cast a sleep spell on herself, as her anxiety tripped higher up the ladder of her emotions until she could bear it no longer.

At last, a pale ghost in a slightly too large cotton shift and another pair of new socks - these even cozier than the last - slipped her feet into her new boots, laced them up halfway, just long enough not to trail the ties through the snow, and pulled the quilt off her bed. “This is idiotic,” she whispered to herself, but made for the door anyway, and opened it into the night, wrapping the motley fabric around her shoulders as she went, lecturing herself all the way. “You’ll freeze to death out here.”

Closing the door even more softly, she stepped out into the Haven that was anything but a safe place, idly wondering if it was the Fereldan idea of a joke, or just the worst coincidence that she had ever heard of, and looked up at the stars and the dormant Breach, swirling slowly far overhead. She breathed deeply, smelling frost and evergreens and hearing the distant quiet discussions of sentries on their rounds, and the occasional sound of booted feet crunching through the snow. She walked down the stairs, towards the camp, repeating her admonition of foolishness to herself before turning towards the rocks just above the slope that led to the lake, and climbing one for a better view, the quilt shifting off one barely clothed shoulder while she braced and lowered herself to the rock‘s surface. For a moment she lost herself in the soft sound of snow falling from the trees all around her, and in the slow movement of the stars overhead, the Breach behind her, where she could ignore the fact that it existed.

Haven wasn’t a bad place, after all, she decided, contradicting her earlier voiced opinion. There was peace here in the ramshackle place - just not in her own bed. But here, under the stars, at least her own breathing came easier, and her heart slowed, and if she wasn’t sleeping, she felt at rest. It felt as if there was room under the open sky for all her tangled thoughts to be sorted out like a web of embroidery floss.

“Excuse me.”

Avexis started, and the quilt shifted off her shoulders as she searched for the speaker. She clutched at the quilt and squinted in the pale reflection of the moon, partially obscured by clouds. “Commander?” She couldn’t remember Hot Templar’s name again. Perhaps everyone could wear nametags, until she could keep them straight?

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to disturb you. This rock and I… have an arrangement.” He offered a shadow of a crooked smile.

“I’m so sorry,” she managed after a puzzled moment, debating whether it was a Common idiom she was missing. “I’ll go,” she struggled to get her feet back under her and still keep the quilt over her shoulders, belatedly conscious that she was inadequately dressed for company or the elements.

“No!” He held up his hand, and lunged towards her, not quite touching her, and she froze. “I mean, please don’t. The rock is big enough for two insomniacs, I think? I wasn‘t looking for solitude, just…”

Avexis shifted sideways, relaxing slightly. “Peace.”

“Exactly,” he canted his head sideways slightly. “You feel the same?”

“Cassandra snores,” Avexis picked the most likely culprit for sleeplessness, one that had the benefit of being the truth. “And… I have lost the knack of sleep without dreams.” She stared off across the small lake, her eyes tense at the corners. “I have no wish to talk to dragons. They’ll find me in the Fade.”

“Understandable,” Cullen clambered up the rock, and settled down, keeping his hands in plain sight, as if afraid of startling her. They were silent for some time, lost in their own thoughts.

“Thank you,” Avexis said, breaking the silence.

“I haven’t done anything.”

“You aren’t asking me what talking to beasts is like, or pressing me to remember how I survived the explosion. That’s something.”

“There’s already been too much talking,” Cullen agreed, casting another glance at her. “All the bickering drives me insane. We can’t get anything done.”

“Oh, it’s not just my presence?” Avexis caught herself about to laugh. “I thought I had… upset the apple… wagon? Is that the phrase? My Common isn‘t as good as it should be.” She sighed, “For all my talent talking to things that shouldn’t talk back, I have trouble with learning languages. I couldn’t even speak to Cassandra, when we first met. Her Orlesian was terrible - no patience.”

“Cart,” he corrected gently. “The apple cart. And no. We were just as rudderless before you stepped out of the Fade. You’ve… helped.”

Avexis puffed out a breath that crystallized in front of her, an icy glitter of fog in front of her lips, and shook her head. “How? I collapsed even before I made it to the rift. I found… I found…” her throat closed off and she grasped the amulet that was still resting around her neck, shifting her other hand to hold the blanket around her.

“Enchanter D‘Marcall,” Cullen looked out past the lake as well, focusing on a distant spruce tree. “The Seeker said as much. I am sorry for your loss. We have all lost people, but few of us have had that sort of confirmation.”

Avexis shivered, wondering who he had lost. “He’s dead. He saved my life when I was ten, cared for me for years when I was Tranquil, and he’s dead, because of something I did.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t not know. Whatever Cassandra wishes to believe, she cannot be certain I wasn’t… told to do it. While Tranquil have free will, we often obey whoever asks, because what‘s the point?” She looked down at the bunched fabric in her fists, “Harmony and balance are more important than having our own way. So without a clear memory of what happened, I can‘t be sure. I might be as guilty of causing the Breach as I was of summoning the dragon that attacked Divine Beatrix. Just because I didn‘t choose to do it, doesn‘t mean I wasn‘t guilty of the act itself.”

“That sounds a very… Tranquil point of view,” Cullen admitted.

Avexis giggled suddenly.

“What‘s so funny?” The shadow of a smile was back, though.

“You came looking for peace, and found a Tranquil,” she sputtered. “It translates, does it not?”

Cullen stared for a moment, and then grinned, albeit cautiously, “Yes, I suppose it does.”

She glanced at him out of the corners of her eyes. “So why were you looking for peace? The Inquisition’s Commander… you’d think he’d be looking for war.” Her mouth quirked up sideways, and her shoulders still shook with amusement at her last - weak - pun. “Lest he be out of a job.”

“I get enough of fighting in the daylight hours.” Cullen found a twig next to him and tossed it off the rock overhand. “I don’t sleep well. I tire of jerking awake every few minutes. So I get up early and… come out here. Then I go do paperwork by candlelight until the sun comes up. There are always requisitions.”

“You, too, have lost the gift of sleep without dreams,” Avexis understood, “…was it in the Circle?”

“Two of them, actually.”

“Bad luck,” Avexis whispered. “Some fell peacefully, I heard. Ostwick, I think? Perhaps Hossberg. I had other occupations to claim my attention, but… even some of the Tranquil took note. As much as we worry about anything, we pondered what would happen to us. Many of us are missing. Regalyan took care of me. I have no idea what happened to most of my colleagues.”

“My Circle didn’t fall peacefully,” Cullen coughed, “I was in Kirkwall.”

“Merde.”

“Is that Orlesian?”

“Yes. For ‘shit‘. I heard the most unlikely things about Kirkwall. It‘s no wonder you can‘t sleep if you lived through that.”

“Oh,” Cullen shrugged, “In that case, you can say it again. I was Knight-Captain there. Most of what you‘ve heard is true.”

“If it makes you feel better, I will.” Avexis wriggled her toes in her boots. “Galyan used to tell me I needed to curb my tongue. Today, I don’t really see the point. Everything is awful. I don‘t see how it could get much worse. Obscenities seem appropriate. I‘ve been reciting them in my head all day. I‘m only surprised more of them haven‘t slipped out.” Cullen only nodded, watching her. Avexis pulled the quilt up over her head, self consciously, “My ears are freezing. I don’t see how the Dalish do it.”

Cullen smirked, “I rarely get cold.”

“That sounded vaguely superior.” Avexis didn’t look at him, but a smile was playing around the edges of her mouth again. “Is that because your dog lord blood keeps you warm? Have ages of ancestors sleeping with their dogs made you and your kin impermeable to frigid temperatures?”

“Are you going to make this about nationality?” Cullen laughed, a little too loud for the hour. “Maybe you skinny Orlesian elves just need to wear more clothes. I‘m wearing two layers under the armor and one above.”

She snickered, “We probably do. The Fade Elf wasn’t even wearing shoes earlier, much less a hat or even much of a coat - just a sleeveless vest thing. Can you imagine? I’d get frostbite. I‘d lose toes, perhaps a whole foot.”

“So would I.” They shared another laugh.

“Commander?” Cullen’s neck snapped up.

“Yes?” He was instantly far more stern.

The scout stared at the two of them, “Um, just heard laughing, Ser. I thought I should… investigate?”

Cullen sighed, “Yes, thank you, Bruce. The Herald couldn’t sleep. I’m just… keeping her company.”

Avexis had frozen into silence. “Keeping company. Right,” the scout backed away. “I’ll let you get back to it.” His eyes were wide, his whites visible even in the darkness.

“Is it… wrong for me to be out here? Is there a curfew?” Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “I didn’t even think about whether there were rules like the Circle…there weren’t, during the Conclave. Perhaps there should have been, given… I should go.”

“Not at all,” Cullen hastened to reassure her. “You can go anywhere in Haven, at any time. As long as you don’t upset the Druffalo, there are no real predators in the valley. Excepting the human kind of predator, anyway. The wolves don‘t come this close to the village, usually.”

Avexis shivered. “Right. Do you know of… many of the human kind? Here, I mean?”

“None yet, other than the person responsible for the explosion,” Cullen sighed, and his breath fogged the air, “In a group this size, there’s bound to be a few others. There‘s always someone,” His forehead creased while he smiled at her. “But there are also always sentries. If you want to wander, do so. I’ll tell them to keep an eye out for you.”

She didn’t relax. “Are the sentries… trustworthy?”

Cullen frowned, “As far as I have determined, yes. I have to trust them - they’re our first line of defense, in case of attack. Not that that seems likely, but no one expected the Conclave explosion, either. Vigilance seems wise. Yell for me if you need help. Haven isn‘t large and I am usually awake, even at night. And yelling for the Commander will bring someone running, I promise.”

She relaxed a bit, “I have insulted your expertise. I apologize.”

“Not at all. It’s a valid question, and one I’m glad I could answer.”

She stood, the quilt slipping off her head, and her hair fell loose to her shoulders. She shrugged the quilt up further, bunching it under her neck. “Still, we’re supposed to leave for the Fereldan Hinterlands in the morning. I suppose I should try to sleep - for at least a few hours.”

Cullen rose effortlessly, “I’ll walk you back.”

They returned in silence, companionable, but aware that every single sentry was staring at the two of them. “Thank you,” Avexis repeated at the door of her cabin, Cassandra’s snores piercing the darkness. She rested her hand on the smoothly carved wood of the latch.

“Maker’s Breath, no one could sleep through that sawing,” Cullen laughed lowly. “No wonder you were restless.”

“Did Leliana send you out to find me?” Avexis confronted him out of the blue. “To make sure that I wasn’t running away or…”

Cullen shook his head slowly in confusion. “I thought everyone was asleep but me. You stole my rock, remember?”

“Sorry,” Avexis sighed, “That was… foolish, I suppose. To be suspicious.”

“I imagine you were used to being watched, at least until you became Tranquil,” Cullen cleared his throat. “The Circles have all fallen - one by one. Just say the word if you don’t want me to talk to the sentries. You are supposed to be the Herald of Andraste - you, at least, should be free to move around without constant supervision. Enjoy being incognito - it‘ll be hard not to be recognized, soon enough.”

Avexis blinked in surprise. “You’re a Templar. Surely you don‘t want mages moving through your camp completely unchecked?”

Cullen shook his head, “I’ve treated mages with distrust before, sometimes without cause. I’m trying to do better, here. Cassandra trusts you, I trust Cassandra, and I will trust you. Besides… I’m not a Templar any longer. I left the Order after Kirkwall. I have Templars here, but they’re not concerned with the Herald of Andraste,” he teased, “they’re too busy training recruits. If we recruit more mages, I‘ll worry then.”

“Oh,” her shock was evident, and her confusion even more so. “I can go anywhere?”

“Well, if you walk into the men’s bathhouse, I imagine a few people would have something to say about it,” Cullen laughed. “But yes, within reason. And tomorrow you leave for the Hinterlands. No Templars are coming with you - it's not necessary, even if I could spare one. Cassandra is going with you to defend you, not to… prevent you from doing what needs to be done, or to report back to us on your behavior.”

Avexis frowned, “I’m not sure what to say.”

“Just sleep well,” he bowed his head slightly. “I’ll see you in the morning before you leave, perhaps.” She nodded, and slipped inside, closing the door gently, and crawling back into her chilly bed without disturbing Cassandra at all.

She did sleep, despite the insecurity and uncertainty of her situation, curled up tightly into her bed, and slightly warmer in the cabin with its banked fire, until Cassandra shook her awake, just after dawn.


	5. A Grizzly Sort of Trial

“So this is Ferelden?” Avexis glanced around her critically. “I know I didn’t get out much, but… there’s nothing here. People live like this?” The wooden hut perched on a steep hill, surrounded by an overgrown garden filled with different varieties of elfroot and random broken tools was… disturbing.

Varric chuckled, “City girl?”

“Circle,” she reminded him curtly. “Bunks for the apprentices, doubles for the Enchanters, singles for the Senior Enchanters. Tranquil either slept in a dorm, or with their work. A dining hall for meals. This cabin is so… small.”

“Our people once populated this area,” Solas began, in an instructor-like voice. “Our cities spanned…”

“I could care less, quite honestly,” Avexis smiled brightly. “Thousands of years ago doesn’t have a whole lot of impact on the present.” She pressed down on the pins and needles feeling in the palm of her hand, trusting in the tactile irritation to help draw her out of her near constant mental irritation with the other elf. “Halamshiral was the last elven city, and it long since fell.”

“That is rather short sighted,” the other elf countered. “How do you expect to correct the mistakes of the past if you do not know your own history?”

“I don’t have a history. I don’t even remember my parents. I was informed that a Dalish hunter left me with the Circle when I was a child. From talking to Minaeve, I got lucky. Some of the clans just send their extra mages off into the woods to make their own way. She nearly died before the Templars found her.” They were slipping down the slope towards the camp marked on their map at a brisk pace while she spoke. “Why would I want to be part of any culture like that? The Circle is… problematic enough, without bringing race into everything.”

“But you are still an elf…”

“I wasn’t raised as an elf - so can I really claim their culture? The Dalish aren’t my people, and I‘ve never lived in an alienage. I hold none of their beliefs. The closest to parents I had in the Circle was my mentor, and Enchanter Regalyan. They were both human. I’m an elf physically, but I know nothing about elven gods, or traditions. I was raised to sing the Chant of Light. Am I an elf just because I have pointed ears?” Avexis flicked her own ear dismissively.

Solas eyed her sideways, “I feel much the same about the Dalish. They are not my people, nor the city elves. Perhaps I could teach…”

“I’m not really interested in my heritage, Solas. I speak and read enough elven to get by with some of the spells. That‘s all I need or want - I’m Orlesian, and from the Circle, before I‘m elven. Laisse tomber. Let it go.” The elf’s disapproving silence hung over them like a storm cloud as they descended towards the camp marked on their map, and he fell far behind the rest of them. Avexis shrugged off the other elf’s passive resistance. “So Cassandra, we’re supposed to meet a Scout Harding? And then this Mother Giselle?”

“That is what Leliana said, yes,” Cassandra sounded stiff.

“And we must keep the scary spymaster happy,” breathed Avexis with a sigh.

“Leliana’s not so bad, when you get to know her,” Varric protested.

“I’ll pass. Thanks.” Avexis skid down the hilly path. “She’s given me no reason to want to do that. Every time I try to talk to her she‘s talking about killing someone. I‘m always wondering if I‘m to be next.”

They retrieved their orders and further directions from the Head Scout, who seemed a little less in awe than most of the scouts, much to Avexis’ relief, and spent only a few moments in the camp itself before continuing their long slide down the gritty gravel path of the hillside towards the location marked as the Crossroads, Harding’s warnings about how far the fighting had spread echoing in her ears.

The Scout hadn’t lied. Avexis heard the fighting before she saw it, and cast a barrier over the four of them just as they rounded the corner into the conflagration. The barrier - one she had started to feel more confident in after extensive practice on the way to the Hinterlands - still fell in what seemed like a matter of seconds, and several rogue Templars had her on her back before she could cry out for help.

She shut her eyes, hoping it would at least be fast, before she heard the screech of metal sliding against metal as Cassandra lunged herself between her and her attackers, drawing the warrior’s attention while Avexis scuttled back, trying to suck breath back into her lungs. Another barrier settled itself over her body, a vague tickling sensation under her clothes. She eyed Solas, who wasn’t looking at her, wondering if he had done that on purpose. Her own barriers didn’t tickle.

She climbed back to her feet and focused, palm towards her forehead, and then spread it outwards, shooting a single fireball - much smaller than she intended it to be, but enough to catch in Cassandra’s opponent’s clothing and send him into a panic. She relaxed, slightly, with the successful spell.

She could still use fire. It was slightly safer than calling down lightning in a crowd of people, including panicking civilians with no where else to go, hoping that it wouldn‘t leap amongst them and cause unintended casualties.

And then the reinforcements arrived to join the fray, and all was chaos once more.

<EotD>

“And now the scary spymaster wants us to come back to Haven and arrange to travel to Val Royeaux. Cassandra… I‘m beginning to feel rather pushed around.” Avexis shook the letter, frowning as if it was the spymaster in question. “Is there enough of the Chantry left to bother making the trip? We‘re at least helping here, in a drop by drop sort of way. If we could get the remnants of the Chantry, though… do you really think it will help?”

“It is necessary,” the Seeker pressed. “Without the Chantry, the Inquisition has no money, no backing.”

“But why send me? Wouldn’t Josie be a better choice?” Avexis looked unsure. “I was just a child when I met Divine Beatrix, but I don’t think the Grand Clerics cared for me… Are any of Justinia’s clerics left?”

“Very few and those are not… popular,” Cassandra sighed. “Otherwise we might already have another Divine.” She weighed Avexis over the fire, as the woman reread the letter. “Is the letter from Leliana, then?”

“No, it’s from Hot Templar.” The nickname slipped out before she could curb it. “I mean - the Commander? Commander Untel de Ferelden.” She squinted at the page, “I can’t make out his name on the signature - in the signature? Stupid prepositions. He has terrible handwriting - is that a 'C' or an 'O'?”

Varric sputtered out his hot tea. “Hot Templar? Are we talking about Curly?” He paused, “’In the signature‘, Fancy.” Avexis nodded thoughtfully.

Cassandra coughed politely. “Cullen, Avexis. His name is Commander Cullen Rutherford. Not Commander ‘What‘s His Name‘ from Ferelden. ’Hot Templar’ is not an appropriate nickname for the Commander of the Inquisition’s armies. I didn‘t recruit him for his looks.”

Avexis frowned. “Well, he is attractive. Don‘t act like you haven‘t noticed, Cassandra, even if he‘s not your type. And I don‘t remember anyone‘s name, especially if I don‘t see them for weeks at a time. We‘ve talked a grand total of… twice, outside of meetings?” She creased a corner of the letter. “You recruited him from Kirkwall, Cassandra?

“I don’t have a ‘type’. And yes, I did.” Cassandra watched her for a moment, but she didn‘t say anything further. “So… should we contact this Warden before we travel back, or let it wait?”

“I think sooner would be better. The Warden might move on, if we delay,” Avexis sighed, and refolded the letter. “It will be good to be back in Val Royeaux.”

“It has changed,” Cassandra warned her. “When the Spire fell, and with the Civil War…”

“It’s still more familiar than this. I remember the markets. We watched a puppet show there once. I wanted to climb up on one of the lion statues, but the Templars and Enchanters wouldn‘t let me,” Avexis slipped off her log and looked up at the sky. “Even the stars are a little different here, Cassandra. And you saw what happened when I warned Giselle about the dragon just over the hills. She backed away from me.”

“Mother Giselle is Orlesian, Fancy, I would have thought you‘d like her better for it,” Varric’s mouth was still twisted in humor, his eyes glinting.

“I like her fine. She’s a kind woman. But she’s scared. Everyone fears me, regardless of nationality,” Avexis stared down at Varric. “You are frightened by me. Of me?” She sighed, “I can’t seem to get my prepositions right. Why does Common have so many?”

“And Orlesian doesn’t? Could have fooled me. Go with ’of’.” Varric fidgeted, triple checking Bianca‘s sights. “And it’s nothing personal, Fancy. I’m just uncomfortable with mages. I haven’t found them exactly - forthcoming. The ones I’ve hung out with haven’t been the most dependable people, with the exception of Hawke‘s little sister, and even she joined the Circle behind Hawke‘s back. Your talents are more bizarre than most, you gotta admit.”

“They’re better than most! I keep the rats and foxes from eating our camp stores. I lured rams towards us so that we could feed refugees - how long do you think it would have taken to feed all those people without me? I called a Druffalo home when it ran from demons. I froze a pack of wolves in place, so that we could kill the demon trying to control the pack without taking unnecessary canine lives. I warned the refugees about a dragon,” protested Avexis. “If I could do that with people, I would have stopped the rebel mages and templars on our first day here!”

“I do not fear you,” Solas interrupted, “Your talents are a throwback to the days when the Elvhen…”

“I’m a throwback?” Avexis snarled, “Thanks a lot.”

“Not helpful, Chuckles,” Varric warned, rubbing down Bianca gently with a spare rag.

“I do not fear you either,” Cassandra cast a warning glance at the bald mage. “It will likely be a long day tomorrow. I think we should all try to get some sleep. I’ll take first watch.”

 

<EotD>

 

Avexis twisted in her bedroll. She usually shared a tent with Cassandra, but the other woman hadn’t come to bed yet, and she couldn’t really sleep. Her thoughts were too chaotic, tumbling around in her head with a scattering of emotions that she didn’t quite recognize, like shards of broken glass in her mind. She shoved her still-socked feet into her boots, and emerged from the tent to sit next to the Seeker instead.

“I could keep watch,” she murmured. “I can’t sleep. Again.”

“No. There are bears here.” The Seeker frowned. “Again? How long has this been going on?”

“Since.” She looked down at her hands. “It was easier to sleep when I was Tranquil. I didn’t keep getting distracted within my own head.”

“I can imagine this is difficult,” Cassandra’s voice was stuffy, but not without sympathy. “Do you still want the Rite?”

“I… don’t know.” Avexis looked up. “In so many ways it was easier. And the focus! I could work and work and some of my discoveries were brilliant, and now I can’t understand the leaps in logic I made to find them - all my work was destroyed, in any case…” her words trailed off. “And I never felt… alone. I’m always lonely at night now. And I didn’t miss the demons. Now when I dream there are so many…”

“What kind of demons?” Cassandra asked gently.

“Does it matter? They‘re always shaped like dragons.” Avexis hiccupped and only then realized she was crying. “You name it, it’s after me. It’s like I’m… bait? It’s worst in the middle of the night. I feel like I’m going insane, sometimes. Maybe I already am. Its easier after dawn, when other people are awake. I‘m so frightened I‘m going to hurt someone at their most helpless… at least if they‘re awake they have a chance of fighting me off.” She stared down at her hands, and then raised them to cup her eyes, pressing slightly. “I wouldn’t sleep at night, if I didn’t have to. I don’t suppose it would be seemly for Andraste’s Herald to become nocturnal and known for taking afternoon naps?”

Cassandra impulsively reached over and squeezed her hand. “Do what you have to do. There are Seeker meditations, that we use before our Vigil. I could teach you, if it would help.”

“Meditation?” Avexis looked thoughtful, and then smiled. “Please. I can’t keep going on like this. I’m going to fall off a cliff into an open rift and never be seen again. The world will end because I can‘t stay awake.”

“Don’t say such things,” the Seeker snapped. “Let us begin, then. We‘ll work until next watch, and then sleep for a while, and then go find this Warden that Leliana is so convinced holds all the answers.” She arranged her body in a relaxed position, and Avexis copied her.

“And then we can go back to Haven,” Avexis agreed. “And then… home to Orlais.”

“You will not find Orlais very home-like,” Cassandra warned again. “Do as I say, then, and repeat the words mentally.” She took a deep breath, and began, “Breathe… Breath is life. As I breathe, I take in life. Exhale, and the tension flows out of me. Nothing matters but this moment in time. I step aside and let it happen. I watch as my muscles relax and my body loosens. I am vulnerable in this moment, but prepared for what is needed. My mind and body are at rest. I see my thoughts but let them pass. They do not concern me in this present moment. My body and mind need rest, and after my rest, I shall be prepared for what is needful. Inhale, exhale. I feel my breath move through my body and I need nothing more.”

Avexis did as requested, and after a couple of repetitions, guided by the Seeker, she could feel the tension leave her shoulders and leave a dull ache behind. She imagined herself stepping aside so that her body was unoccupied, and saw herself sitting, at rest, seeming more at peace than she had been since waking up. And then the mark sparked and she jerked back into herself.

“That was excellent, for a first attempt,” Cassandra was smiling. “Try sleeping now.”

“I will, and Cassandra,” she reached out a hand and touched the Seeker’s leg. “Thank you.”

Avexis woke to bright light, the clambering of hooves around the camp, and small nickers and whinnies. “The horses are here,” Varric called into their tent. “Dennett and his people delivered them this morning. The Commander must have followed through with his soldiers as a building crew. Rise and shine, Fancy, Seeker. Don’t know how late you two were up, but it’s almost noon.”

“Les culottes brûlantes d’Andraste*,” snarled Avexis, “Why didn’t anyone wake me? We have places to go!”

“Language,” snapped Cassandra. “No one wants to hear about Andraste’s flaming knickers.”

“Faire chier!*” countered Avexis as the Seeker shoved her feet into her boots and grabbed at her breastplate, to finish putting her armor on outside. “Piss off. The cursing is necessary. Varric, tell me that there‘s tea, or I will hit someone.”

“Cussing helps relieve stress, Seeker!” Varric countered, his bootsteps retreating, presumably to check the kettle by the fire. “Fancy has some nice ones, too. Dwarven curses don‘t really translate well. Lots of rocks, and no one really wants to hear about my Ancestors‘ Stones.” He paused, “Even if they were epic, and they passed them down. Naturally.”

“Ugh,” Cassandra groaned, cheeks flushing, before emerging from the tent. “Spare me the description.”

Avexis laughed despite herself, and pulled herself free of her bedroll. “So, horses…” She was confronted with a curious nose directly outside the tent. She squeaked, much to Varric’s amusement, and the horse retreated at the unfamiliar sound, backing away with a puff of air. The two observed each other with similar wide eyes. “Are they supposed to be so… large?”

“Fancy, these are Fereldan Forders. They don’t come in ‘small‘. They have to carry people the size of Hot Templar.”

“I’ve never ridden on my own,” she rose to her feet, and walked around the horse cautiously, ignoring the frost melting and dampening her socks. “Is it a breach of etiquette to just ask it to carry me? Or can I ride with one of you?”

Varric raised both eyebrows. “Huh, I guess Hot Templar didn’t think that part through when he asked us to talk to Dennett about horses. But I’d try it your way. What have you got to lose?”

Avexis cast a critical look his way, the dwarf‘s baiting finally registering through her grumpy fatigue. “I thought you called Commander Cullen ‘Curly‘?” She stopped, frowning, “Why ‘Curly’?”

“Only to his face,” Varric grinned and ignored her question. “Hot Templar to yours. It‘s more fun this way. Maybe he‘ll give you a private nickname too, and then I can use it to embarrass him. I‘ve got to amuse myself somehow. Killing demons is old news, and Solas won‘t play Wicked Grace. Besides he‘s too good at Diamondback to risk losing my shirt. I like this shirt - shows off the chest hair.”

“The name doesn’t mean anything, you know. He’s Hot Templar. You’re Crossbow Dwarf, and Solas is Fade Elf,” Avexis teased, and ran her fingers through her hair to straighten it, preparing to braid.

“Sure it doesn‘t. And why am I Crossbow Dwarf instead of Sexy Dwarf, then?”

“Guess.”

“That’s hurtful, Fancy.”

Cassandra’s disgusted noise echoed through the camp. “Varric, quit teasing Avexis.” Varric sputtered at the unfairness, ignored by the Seeker. She straightened up, her short hair still pressed to one side with sleep, but uncaring about her personal appearance. “Let’s go find this Warden and be on our way. We can eat while we travel.”

Avexis finished braiding her hair sideways, to hide the growing out side - the shaving was just too difficult to keep up with in the wilderness. “Yes, let’s. I’m ready to go home. Sooner rather than later. Maybe the Inquisition can move to Val Royeaux… that would make Josie happy.”

Cassandra cast a worried glance at Varric, and then scowled at him as if the entire civil war was his fault. She grabbed her pack from inside their tent, and slung it on the back of a horse. “Let‘s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Les culottes brulantes d'Andraste is my personal translation of Andraste's flaming knickers. You know the Orlesians say it too... and the ones about shoes with talons wasn't a direct translation, however fascinating.
> 
> *There are several versions of 'piss off' that I found in my research. 'Degage' is one, and 'Faire chier' is another. Don't wake her up, Solas. You'll get worse than 'piss off'.
> 
> The meditation in this chapter is courtesy of iduna, who is my co-author, though for some reason the site didn't show that when I entered it. Hopefully today it will work...


	6. Heavy Things

“Thank you, Warden Blackwall,” Avexis sighed. “But this was no help at all.” She touched the scar on her forehead gently, before asking all present, “I suppose we‘d better send a raven to Leliana, and let her know this was a dead end?” She began to walk away and he called after her.

“Wait…”

Avexis listened to the Warden justify himself for a minute, letting him fumble towards admitting he wanted to join the Inquisition. “What good can one Warden do?”

“Save the fucking world, if pressed,” he growled.

Avexis stared at him, confused. “Are you referring to the Hero of Ferelden? Because there were three Wardens at the final battle, in the version I‘m familiar with. Warden Riordan died, and then there was the King of Ferelden, and the Hero herself… but the other two had to help at least a little. And how likely is it that darkspawn are responsible for the Breach? They aren‘t known for thinking ahead, no?”

His beard twitched. “Good point.”

“But as you’ve already admitted that I’m right,” Avexis continued, “Welcome to the Inquisition. I guess?” She exchanged a glance with Cassandra. “Though I would have thought you’d ask the Seeker, not me.”

“You’re the Herald,” Varric reminded her.

“That isn‘t likely,” sighed Avexis. “And don’t go buying any of my hair, Blackwall. You’ve been warned.” She stared at his beard, “You look like you have enough of your own.”

　

<EotD>

 

“So…” rumbled Blackwall to Varric a full day later, as they set up camp on the side of the road to rest from climbing steadily through the foothills to the Frostbacks. “What’s up with the Herald?”

“She’s got a name. Jury‘s still out if she‘s actually the Herald of anything but extreme bad luck,” Varric lifted the hammer with a sigh, and started hammering tent pegs in. “Hand me that stake, will you?”

Blackwall complied, and continued, “So she does. Avexis. Sounds sort of Tevene, doesn‘t it? She’s a little…” Blackwall tipped his head back and forth. “Different. In a good way, mostly. She get hit on the head recently?”

“Oh, that,” Varric cleared his throat, and focused on his job, moving to the opposite corner of the tent. “She was Tranquil until about a month ago, when she was carried out of the Fade by the Prophetess herself. Andraste must have kept her mental filter as an offering. Not sure if Fancy‘ll ever get it back. If she ever had it in the first place. Cassandra claims that she was always ‘funny‘. I gotta wonder what she was like before, if the Seeker thought she was funny. Never really thought of Seeker as having a sense of humor.”

“Shit,” Blackwall looked impressed. “You think she’d let me buy her a drink?”

“The Seeker?” Varric sounded uncertain. “Why would you want to do that?”

“The Herald!”

“Probably?” Varric hedged. “Why?”

“She’s gorgeous,” hissed the Warden. “And fucking interesting, if half of what the scouts are whispering about is right. She talks to dragons?”

“And wolves, and rams, and rats, and foxes… and most recently horses. I’m keeping a list. But I don’t know if she’s really ready for a relationship,” warned Varric under his breath. “She’s not exactly… stable?”

The burly man laughed, “Who wants a relationship? I just want to buy her a drink, talk a bit, have a laugh or two, maybe offer to move heavy things. Why are you warning me off?”

Varric nodded at Cassandra, occupied with berating the requisition officer about Leliana‘s request for an unusual amount of blood lotus. “That’s the reason I’m warning you off. The Herald gets hurt, the Seeker guts you. She‘s worse than a mama bear.”

“Ah.” Blackwall nodded sagely. “I can handle the Seeker.” He slapped the dwarf on the back. “Thanks for the tip.”

“Don’t mention it.” Varric shook his head as Blackwall wandered away in Avexis‘ direction. “No one ever listens. Lust is deaf and love is blind, I guess.”

<EotD>

 

Cullen watched them ride back into Haven, Avexis at the front of the party, chatting animatedly in Orlesian to a darker, heavily bearded man in Warden armor, who listened silently with a small smile mostly hidden under the facial hair. Frowning, he leaned over to his captain, “Rylen, do you know who the Warden is?” He had a suspicion but…

“That must be Blackwall, the one Leliana sent her after,” grunted his second in confirmation. “Scouts report he’s nice enough, maybe a little reserved. Holds himself apart, but friendly-like, overall. Odd, like most Wardens, but he‘s a good shield, Commander. They said he blocked an arrow that would have pierced the Herald‘s head the first minute after he met her - Varric‘s been telling the story. Apparently he was trained as a chevalier, and volunteered outright. Could be useful.”

Cullen nodded. “All right. I’ll make it a point to introduce myself.” He strolled over to their horses. “Herald, welcome back.” He held up his hands to assist her down. “Allow me?”

Avexis blinked at him, and then looked at Cassandra. “Allow you what?”

“He wants to help you down,” Cassandra drawled, hiding a smile. “Let him, if you like.”

Varric winked. “I could use a hand, Curly, if you’re asking. These things are fucking tall.”

“Oh,” Avexis flushed. “Even the horse was confused.”

“The horse… was confused?”

“The only reason I can ride is with its permission,” Avexis sighed. “I’m terrible at this.” She leaned out and rested her hands on his shoulders and Cullen grasped her waist to lower her down. “Thank you,” she winced as her legs touched the ground and wobbled, clutching at him to get her balance. “I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t be able to get down on my own. I’ve been on the horse too long. I also suspect I won’t get used to riding anytime soon. Must we turn around and leave immediately?”

“I’m afraid Leliana insists,” Cassandra sighed. “Is there nothing left of the Chantry but bickering Mothers and minor clerics?”

“Not really,” Cullen agreed. “Chancellor Roderick has been stirring up all sorts of dissent in your absence, Herald, Seeker. I‘m afraid the Chantry will hardly be welcoming when you arrive. Just yesterday I had to break up a fight he incited between our remaining Templars and mages, as they blamed each other for the Divine‘s death. I‘m rather glad none of you were here to witness it. I thought for a moment it was going to dissolve into violence.” Cassandra winced. “Don’t worry, both sides are doing drills together this morning. Maybe they’ll learn to get along, if they have to work together.” He turned to the Warden, who stood, awkwardly, reins in hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met, have we?”

“Commander Cullen, this is Warden Blackwall,” Cassandra introduced them without even looking, as she removed her saddlebags from her mount. The two men shook hands easily.

“I’ll take the horses off to the stables, help see them settled,” Blackwall looked around as if confused. “This is it, then? The mighty Inquisition?”

“We’re making the most of what we have,” Cullen bristled. “We’ll get bigger in time.”

“That’s what he said,” Varric muttered under his breath in Avexis’ direction. She snickered, trying to be quiet.

“I just thought there’d be… more,” Blackwall shrugged. Varric nearly choked on the double entendre. “Oh well. No doubt with time, just as you say.” He nodded to Avexis, who was helplessly sniggering into her hand, and trying to make it look like a cough. “Your Worship, I‘ll be there, if you need me.” He walked two horses gently towards the stables.

“I trust your return was uneventful?” Cullen asked, scowling after the Warden.

“The actual travel was fine,” Avexis frowned, “Have you not been reading the reports? Because everything else is an absolute disaster. Some of the rifts are one step away from impossible. Cassandra had Corporal Vale post sentries to warn off locals until I can return and try again. I had to electrocute a bear - it seemed unbalanced when I tried to warn it off. My control over animals is lacking the larger they get. I’ve never had such a good opportunity to test my limits, though. It’s scary, if interesting. But Cassandra killed seven in a row! Oh! And I brought back the hides! Haven has a tanner, right?”

Cullen laughed, “Yes, Haven has a tanner. And I did read the reports. You seemed rather… proud.”

Avexis grinned, “I was afraid I would meet a ‘grizzly’ end.” Cullen groaned. “Oh, so the thought of me being mauled is ‘unbearable’?”

“Stop. You‘re supposed to be bad at languages.”

“Varric’s been helping me. You‘ll just have to ‘bear‘ with me as my Common improves?”

“Avexis!” Cassandra ordered, stripping off her gloves and stuffing them into her belt. “Chantry. Now.”

“I’d better go,” Avexis twisted her mouth sideways. “Mother calls.”

Cullen choked, “Mother?”

Avexis flashed him a breathtaking smile. “Just a joke. Varric started it. Cassandra throws herself in front of me at every opportunity. You should have seen her with the bears. She growled back.”

“Commander! You, too!” the Seeker ordered.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Cullen chuckled, and gestured Avexis forward. “Shall we?”

<EotD>

 

“You said she was single,” Blackwall complained to Varric considerably later that evening, in the crowded stuffy tavern, noticeably empty of Heralds and Commanders, a particularly gloomy song being played by a bard in the background. It was crowded, but also strangely quiet, as people brooded into their alcohol of choice.

“She is,” Varric protested into his far too empty mug, while waving down Flissa for a refill. “No attachments whatsoever. What part of ‘she‘s been Tranquil for a damn long time‘ don‘t you understand? Everybody that cared about her is either here in this village or died at the Conclave.”

“She’s been talking to the Commander since we rode in.” The man in question was standing impatiently at the counter, while a nervous Flissa poured him a tankard and dished up a bowl of some grey-looking stew.

“They had a War Meeting, Hero. You kind of need the Commander of the forces for that. It’s not like they’re making out in a secluded corner of the courtyard.”

“Right,” drawled Blackwall, taking a sip of his ale. “She looks at him, though.”

“And calls him Hot Templar.”

“Oh yeah? What’s she call you?”

“Sexy Dwarf,” Varric lied. “Solas is Fade Elf, or Egghead, when she’s not being charitable. Which is often. She doesn‘t have a lot of patience with him, if you haven‘t noticed.”

“Do I have a nickname?”

“Hero?”

“I mean the ones she hands out.”

Varric shrugged. “Don’t know. If she remembers your name you might never get one. She was hazy with names when she… woke up. Seeker doesn’t have one. But she knew her before.”

The man nodded, despondent. “All right then. Will you… you just tell me if I need to back off, all right?”

“I’d take anything of the sort slower than slow, personally,” advised Varric, glancing back at the Commander. “She might spook, otherwise. We don’t know her whole story yet, you know? By my count, she was Tranquil for five years. Anything could have happened in that time - I heard things, in Kirkwall, about the way Tranquil are treated in the Circle. The rumors weren’t pretty. And she likes talking to you. I haven‘t seen her speak that way in Common yet. You‘re good for her, whatever comes of it.”

“Right.” Blackwall shrugged and downed his ale. “Good advice, once again.”

“That’s me,” Varric sighed. “Full of good advice that nobody bloody takes. Just ask the Champion of Kirkwall. She‘s the expert of not listening to the helpful dwarf.”

 

<EotD>

 

“You have a courtly air, for someone I met in the forest,” Avexis observed thoughtfully, leaning up against the side of the cabin attached to the smithy.

“Always nice to get a compliment from a lady. They’re hard to come by anymore,” Blackwall almost seemed shy - not that it was easy to tell under all that hair…

Avexis frowned, trying to follow the meaning behind the words, “Ladies or compliments?”

He laughed, “Both.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose you have anything large and heavy that needs moving?”

Avexis stared briefly, confused, “I… I don’t think so. You could ask Harritt… or Adan, for that matter. Adan has been making things that explode upon contact with the air and putting them in massive jars, he could probably use the help.”

“That’s all right, I’m not trying to impress them,” Blackwall winked.

“Oh,” Avexis flushed and pushed herself upright. “I… I should go.”

“You know where I am. I‘m bunking in with Harritt and Dennet for now.” Blackwall picked up the saddle he had been polishing when she walked up. “Let me know if you’d like to talk more about Orlais. Before I joined the Wardens, I worked there for some time, fighting other men‘s wars.”

“I… I would like that?” Avexis was backing away. “ Maybe I‘ll see you tomorrow.” She left, in confusion.

Blackwall shrugged and watched her go, “Until then.”

She retreated to the Chantry, arms wrapped around her waist, and let herself into Josie’s office. “Josie… are you busy?”

“Always,” Josie sighed. “But that does not mean it isn’t good to see you. What can I help you with?”

“I… I think Blackwall was flirting with me. Or he thought I was flirting with him… I‘m not sure which.”

“The Warden?” A spark of interest lit up Josie’s face. “Oh, what did he say?”

“He offered to lift heavy things?” Avexis offered very hesitantly indeed.

“Oh, that’s sweet,” Josie cooed, and rang a bell. “I’m going to take a break. Would you like some tea, perhaps?” She waved Avexis into a chair opposite her desk, and leaned on a hand. “Are you interested?”

“I… don’t know,” Avexis shook her head. “It’s been… a very long time. And I don’t think anyone has ever approached me quite that way…” she shrugged. “It seems strange. Different from the Circle.”

“How did you do these things in the Circle?” Josie asked, while giving some orders to the young woman who popped her head into the room. “Tea, if you please, Margery.” The girl bobbed and disappeared again.

“It… just sort of happened,” Avexis fumbled. “I mean, you flirted with each other. There was a lot of that - because the Circle frowns on mage attachments, some mages cast their nets really wide. You learned who was just looking to… what was the phrase Varric used? Ah yes, ‘hook up and get off’. If that‘s what you wanted, it made it easier.”

Josie gaped, and then rearranged her face so that her shock was hidden. “I see. That is… different. Affairs are common amongst the nobility, of course, but… perhaps not that level of nonchalance?”

“I think most mages just had a series of - Comment dit-on… Varric told me, what was it? Oh yes, ‘one night stands’,” Avexis beamed at Josie, who giggled.

“Varric’s language lessons are rather shocking! Did you?!”

“Oh yes,” Avexis leaned back, as the girl delivered the tea. “But… I had a longer relationship as well.” Josie handed her a cup and she buried her face in the steam. “Merci, Josie.”

“My pleasure,” Josie sighed wistfully, “With whom?”

Avexis lifted her face, flushed with steam. “I wouldn’t want to name names. There’s a slight chance that he is still…”

“Of course,” Josie agreed, “Discretion is crucial in affairs of the heart.” She paused to take a few sips of her tea before returning it to her saucer. “Was it another mage, then? Is he - or she - with the rebels?”

“Non, he wouldn’t be with the rebels,” Avexis cleared her throat and fidgeted with her cup. “He would be with the other side.”

“Most of the loyalists were already here…“ Josie’s eyes widened, “Sacre Coeur de l’Andraste, Avexis, you were involved with a templar?”

“For over a year,” Avexis said, very quietly, her cheeks warm. “It didn’t… end well, I’m afraid.”

“I never fail to be surprised by you,” Josie closed her open mouth firmly. “But… one couldn’t help being curious, I suppose - and how romantic…”

“The reality was less romantic than you would think,” Avexis sighed. “So… it is different, then, outside of the Circle. People are less... direct. Do you think Blackwall was…”

“Most certainly,” Josie mused. “Men rarely know the best way to show their interest in a woman. They fumble and show off. They say foolish things they think poetic or romantic. A few I have known actually get grumpy every time they have to speak to the woman they regard.” She eyed Avexis and offered slyly, “Much like the Commander with you.”

“Or Cassandra with Varric,” Avexis’ face lit up.

“Varric?!” Josie shook her head, “No, that I cannot see. They truly despise each other.”

“You think so?” Avexis sighed, “I suppose I will have to be more conscious of keeping them separated in the field then, if they are so unhappy together.” She took another sip of tea. “They seemed to be doing fine…”

“Then they will handle themselves,” Josie advised. “If you work well with them together, don’t question it. Are you having any difficulties otherwise with your small group?”

“Solas is a cul de chien*.” Avexis said firmly. “If Cassandra didn’t need a mage she can depend on in a crisis, I would leave him in Haven to study the Breach permanently. But we need him out there. He found these elven artifacts that he says will strengthen the Veil. And introduced me to a strange thing he called ‘Veilfire‘. He‘s making himself indispensable.”

“It’s a shame you can‘t get along, in that case,” Josie sighed and stared into her cup. “I should get back to work,” she admitted reluctantly. “Pray, excuse me?”

Avexis rose immediately. “Of course. I didn’t mean to distract you.”

“On the contrary, it was a pleasant interlude,” Josie contradicted with a smile. “You are welcome any time.” She hesitated, but continued, “It might be best to have a conversation sooner, rather than later, if you don’t return Warden Blackwall’s interest.”

Avexis fidgeted, her fingers slipping against the cloth of her coat. “Thank you for your advice, Josie.”

　

<EotD>

 

The meditations helped her get to sleep, but Avexis still found herself twisting in her sheets before dawn most mornings. Impatient, she threw them off in a fit of temper, stomped into her boots and wandered out into Haven, towards the same rock.

She wasn’t looking for company - she was only going there because it was the best rock for the view she needed, with the Breach behind her and the stars in front. A place where she could ignore how everything depended on her, and the trespassing mark.

All the same, she listened for boot steps in the snow, and didn’t startle when the Commander climbed up next to her. “You’re making a habit of this,” he chuckled sheepishly at her comment. “Or is it just when the hallowed Herald is in residence? Does the excitement of my arrival keep you awake at night?”

“Yes, well, as the circles under my eyes indicate, it’s not just when you’re in town.” Avexis watched him lean back, noting his hands were shaking as he settled them behind his head. “I’d rather stay awake hoping to see a pretty girl, believe me.”

“Excuse me?” Avexis smiled. “That was almost smooth, Commander.” She was quiet, “So, what should we talk about? The Inquisition? How much good we can do?”

“You didn’t come here for my recruitment lecture, did you?” Cullen sounded harsh. “Don’t we both get enough of that sort of thing in daylight?”

“I beg your pardon. I was just…”

“I know,” Cullen rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. It was a long day. I was hoping to sleep tonight. My dreams had other plans for me.”

Avexis was quiet for a little while, “So… demons then?”

“Probably. It feels… wrong in that way.”

“Ah,” Avexis understood but there wasn’t much more to say. “I wish I could help. Cassandra taught me a few meditation techniques, but as you see…” she laughed, with a touch of bitterness, “I still end up on your rock before dawn. I can usually tell if it‘s a demon by the smell, but I‘ve never asked if that‘s typical…”

“By the… smell?”

“Templars don’t know that? Demons are adept at reading a person’s mind, but external senses are not their strong suit. And… people have unique scents. You, for example, smell like armor polish. Josie smells of ink and perfume. Blackwall smells like evergreens.” Avexis shrugged, “The average demon doesn’t even try to copy a smell. Even when they do, they get it wrong. In the end, there is always the scent of decay. Of course, mine don’t usually try to look like people, either.”

“That’s fascinating.“

“Is it?“ Avexis glanced up, eyes wide. “You surprise me. I wouldn‘t think you‘d want to talk about demons at all. I certainly don‘t.“

“It’s hard not to, when it’s the reason we’re both out here, instead of safe in bed.“ They were silent for a few minutes. “I welcome the company, honestly,” Cullen admitted. “Even if…”

“What?”

“Well, Bruce told a few people we were… together that last night before you left. There’s a few rumors.”

Avexis sniffed, “That explains Josie‘s hints. Do I want to know what people are saying?”

Cullen relaxed a little, “Apparently, I don’t trust you enough to walk around alone in Haven, because you’re still under suspicion until you are cleared by the next Divine. The remaining Templars compliment me on my diligence, given how little we know about the cure for Tranquility, and the mages confront me about my prejudice. Mother Giselle keeps telling me to trust my instincts - about what, I‘m not sure. And there’s a few people claiming we…” he stopped and shook his head.

“We’re making passionate love to each other under the stars?” she guessed, still thinking about her conversation with Josie.

“How did you guess?” Cullen’s voice was wry.

“I’m Orlesian. We breathe romance, and so invent it if necessary. Rumors are currency in my country. Also, I‘m a Circle mage. Rumors are life in the Tower. This is a particularly stupid one, though. We‘d freeze if we got even a little naked, and I really don‘t want to explain to Adan why my ass needs a poultice for frostbite,” Avexis countered easily. Cullen grunted his agreement. “So, in the interest of full disclosure - how long have we been…” she waggled her eyebrows.

Cullen snorted, “In the wildest version I’ve heard, I’m the reason you adopted Tranquility. They’re ignoring the fact that I was in Kirkwall when you went through the Rite hundreds of miles away.”

“Really?” Avexis flushed with suppressed giggles. “So, you broke my heart and I threw myself before my First Enchanter and Knight Commander and begged to be put out of my misery before a despair demon possessed me? C’est tragique!” She paused, “Tragic. It’s tragic. But I’m fairly certain that the Rite is not administered to the broken-hearted mage as a matter of course.”

“There are worse reasons,” Cullen wasn’t amused now.

“Oh, I detect bitterness,” Avexis sighed, “Are you suffering from such a condition, Commander? Do you have a wounded heart? Or did you know a mage that went through the Rite for that reason, or succumbed to Despair?”

“What? No! Well, yes, as far as the Despair goes, but,” Cullen sighed, “no. I’ve seen the Rite abused all too often. Your case… even though you asked, I wouldn’t have approved. I would have argued with your First Enchanter and Knight-Commander.” He scowled, “Or I hope I would have.”

“Did you read Leliana‘s notes on me?” Avexis reached up and smoothed her hair, and got a static shock for her trouble. “Merde.” She shook her hand, the ongoing tingle shooting clear up to her elbow.

“I haven‘t read them,” he swallowed. “But Cassandra told me a little. You were in control, and hardly weak. I would have said you weren’t an immediate risk, dragons, insurrectionists, or not.”

“I do wish you wouldn’t. It doesn’t make good bedtime reading. Too many blood mages preying on children, and the dragons aren‘t something that help stave off nightmares either. I wouldn‘t think you‘d want to risk putting something like that in your head, considering.” Avexis cast a glance over her shoulder at him. “Do you know what a high dragon sounds like in your head? Of course you don’t. Nobody alive does, except me. It… it sounds like thunder, Commander, or a roaring fire. A high dragon blocks everything else out, until you can only hear _her_. They are an incarnation of natural power, in its rawest form. And I… I can tame it, given their blood, or even just enough power in a different form - I could still do it with lyrium or my own blood, I suspect. I hope I never find out, but Frenic… unlocked some sort of potential in me.” She pulled up her knees to hug them and then reached out her unmarked hand towards the stars, her eyes in shadow. “What I am capable of scares me. I fought for many years to learn control. Having accomplished that, I realized that I couldn’t guarantee no one else would attempt to control me. Maleficar practice mind control. Just as I can direct a rat’s mind in the direction I wish for it to go - a blood mage once did that to me. I decided I deserved better than a rat.” She let the hand fall. “The Rite was a final decision of control over my own body.” She reached up and wiped her eyes with her coat sleeve, the tears falling on their own.

“Avexis, I‘m sorry,” Cullen whispered, “Are you…”

“Of course I am,” she admitted. “I’m not ashamed of my tears. I couldn’t, when Frenic was controlling me. I didn’t have enough power over myself to cry, even while my mind screamed to be allowed.” She turned her eyes, glowing softly in the dark, towards him. “I was determined never to let anyone have that control over me again.” She met his eyes, unflinching, her own glowing green in the darkness.

“I think I understand,” he admitted, unable to look away.

“Good,” Avexis coughed, “I don’t know if I made the right choice anymore. It’s all incredibly confusing. I know that’s what I was thinking back then, but…” she shrugged, in a very Orlesian way. “I might have chosen differently, now.” She smiled weakly, “It turns out that controlling a Tranquil is far easier than controlling a fully trained Enchanter. I failed to take that into account.” Cullen was silent, and she stood, flushing. “I shouldn‘t have… I should get to bed. I’m sorry for…” she waved her hand around her, “intruding. Yet again.”

She slid down the rock, flustered.

“You weren’t intruding,” Cullen said in a too soft voice. “But good night, Herald.” She didn’t turn back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *'cul de chien' is a dog's asshole. You're welcome. And yes, the dog pun is intended.
> 
> **'C'est tragique' means 'It's tragic'. Where possible I'll include the translations - since I will inevitably get them wrong.


	7. Violent Violet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Posting a chapter a day early, because I woke up with a head cold and want to make myself feel less pitiful. Tomorrow's chapter today!

Avexis stared around her, her gloomy thoughts as they left Haven darkening yet further as they descended through the war-touched lands on the way to Val Royeaux. Burnt fields - still smelling of ash even months after the battles that had ravaged them - surrounded them on all sides. Broken bridges yet to be repaired forced them to ford shallow streams, the waterways cluttered with abandoned items that had fallen off refugee wagons and carts. The debris ended just before they crossed the last river before Val Royeaux, the gates of the Sun gleaming bright before them, ignoring the scars just miles before as if the war had never existed.

The juxtaposition of the two sides of her country made her clench her horse‘s reins harder, her knuckles going white. Finally, she spoke, “Cassandra…”

“I did tell you it wouldn’t feel like home,” Cassandra pressed her lips together. “But I am sorry it is such a shock, Avexis.”

“It wasn’t this bad on the way to the Conclave! How could the Empress allow this?!” she protested. “She should just kill her cousin. That‘s the way it‘s always been done! Or marry him - that would make perfect sense, if she wants to avoid bloodshed.”

Varric whistled as Blackwall winced, “A little bloodthirsty there, Fancy.”

“Oh, don’t play the innocent, Varric,” she snapped. “It’s a Game to them. Highest stakes, and so on. Haven’t you heard Leliana talk about being a bard? They’re playing wrong when it’s allowed to get this bad. An Empress doesn‘t have the right to expect a love match, especially if she’s weak enough to throw her country into civil war.” She waved her hand towards the farmlands all around them. “Which is worse - for an Empress to marry someone, kill her cousin, or for thousands of her people to die of starvation if they don‘t first get caught in the crossfire of two cousins feuding?”

Solas‘ voice was too even as he interjected his opinion, “I would say you were in no position to make that call, as you don’t know the Empress’ personal situation.”

“Oh, you mean that rumor about her handmaid?” Avexis’ eyes sparked dangerously. “I heard that bit of gossip. Still, if she had an elven lover, all the more reason to marry or kill Gaspard. Then she can do just as she pleases. Mostly.”

“Perhaps she’s tired of living a lie, Fancy.”

“Then she shouldn’t have betrayed Briala,” Solas interjected. “She burnt Halamshiral’s alienage. You can’t ignore the lives she‘s taken to make a bloody point.”

“I’m not ignoring lives.“ Avexis snapped her fingers, “Briala. That was the name. Sword of Mercy, I hope eventually I can remember names without…” her horse stopped abruptly, and she nearly pitched off the front, sliding sideways awkwardly and dangling for a moment, with an intent listening look on her face. “There’s something up ahead,” she patted the horse’s neck in thanks. “Pomme de Terre isn’t clear, but there are loud people, and a lot of metal. He doesn’t like the smithy in Haven - too close to his stall. The noises scare him, and he recognizes the sounds.” The horse snuffled into her hand, hoping for a treat. “Pommes pour le Pomme,” Avexis whispered. “I’ll find apples in Val Royeaux just for you, mon ami.” She frowned, “I’d best keep you away from battles, Pomme, if you dislike the noises so.”

Cassandra arched a single eyebrow. “Don‘t pick apples from the trees by the gallows, Avexis. There is a ridiculous superstition about those trees, and if locals see you feeding them to your horse they will judge the Inquisition harshly. Buy your horse treats with the money Josie provided. I will go ahead, if you like, and see what the fuss is about.” She was already dismounting, handing her reins to Blackwall to hold.

“You and Varric, please. Varric can sneak closer,” Avexis’ eyes creased in worry. “I don’t like this.”

Blackwall positioned himself in front of her, his shield slung free, his fingers looped around the horses’ reins, embarrassing Avexis with his protective stance for the several minutes before Cassandra was seen walking back. “It’s bullshit,” she sounded disgusted. “A group of Revered Mothers stirring up trouble in the marketplace about the Inquisition. We‘d best tie up the horses here. Avexis can stay with them. She shouldn‘t come closer.”

“You’re joking,” Blackwall rumbled. “Why would they bother?”

“Varric’s listening now, but from what I heard,” the Seeker pressed her lips together, “I refuse to subject you to the riot they are trying to incite, Avexis. Perhaps it would be best if we just left entirely. We‘re not going to find help here.”

“We’ve come so far,” she protested, “Is it all for nothing? Surely Giselle‘s list… we could contact them directly? She said that their only strength was in unity…” She patted Pomme gently before handing the reins to Blackwall. "Cassandra, I'm not leaving without entering the city."

“I won’t let you risk yourself,” Cassandra argued. “If they do something foolish, we could lose you… and the mark.”

“Nonsense,” Avexis straightened her back, and marched forward. “They won’t hurt me. They’re a bunch of Revered Mothers. I‘m no threat to them.”

“Avexis, there are Templars!” Cassandra caught her by her arm. “They would definitely hurt you, even without cause. The only excuse they need is the staff on your back.”

Avexis stared back in confusion, “Cassandra, some of my best friends in the White Spire were Templars. Some of them might be here…”

“These Templars are no friends of yours, Fancy. At least not any longer,” Varric returned, shaking his head. “This is bad. Really bad. The Lord Seeker’s with them, Cassandra. Lurking back in the shadows, watching that Hevara broad work up the crowd, and he‘s got what looks like every Templar left in the city with him, armored up and ready to march… somewhere.”

Cassandra relaxed, “That is excellent news, Varric. The Lord Seeker will hear us. He has to listen to me.” She strode forward bravely. “Come, Avexis. Let’s appeal to the Lord Seeker’s common sense.”

Varric stared at her, and muttered, “Why doesn’t anyone ever listen to the helpful dwarf? That wasn’t supposed to reassure you, Seeker.”

Five minutes later, Avexis stared at the Revered Mother Hevara where she lay crumpled, holding the back of her head. “He hit her,” her hair sparked, and lifted slowly, beginning a crackling halo around her head as her magical aura arose. “That Templar _hit_ her.” Her mind whirled dizzily, bile rising into her throat.

“Focus, Avexis,” Cassandra warned. “You don’t want to lose…”

“How dare you?!” Avexis shrieked at the Lord Seeker, lightening flickering around the ends of her hair and at her fingertips, holding on to the last threads of control. “What did she ever do to you?”

“Better do whatever the fuck Seekers do to stop mages,” Varric warned Cassandra. “She’s gonna zap something, if she goes on like this.”

Cassandra glared at him, but a line of worry crossed her forehead, as she transferred her focus to Avexis again. She rested her hand on her sword, and then released it deliberately. “Please, Avexis… do not give them cause to hurt you!”

“Nothing matters but our destiny,” sneered the Lord Seeker. “We will not listen to an elven mage masquerading as a false Herald. You should submit yourself to our authority.”

“You have no authority over me! The Circles are gone!“ Avexis reined her magic in, struggling with the difficulty, confused at her reaction to the attack, and her hair still charged and floating above her shoulders. “Templars, join the Inquisition as Commander Cullen did! You don‘t answer to the Seekers, you never have! The Inquisition is trying to set things right, find who is responsible for the death of the Divine. You could be part of that. We could do so much good…” her words trailed off, feeling like she had heard something similar recently.

“Commander Cullen Rutherford is a traitor to his Order,” the Lord Seeker continued dismissively. “Templars, Val Royeaux is no longer worthy of our protection! We march!”

They watched the last of the Templars leave the city, only a few glancing back, and Varric spoke, “Well, Fancy, I think you might have scared them off. What now, Seeker?”

“I don’t know,” Cassandra straightened her gloves and repeated the phrase, her voice smaller and more desperate than Avexis could ever remember hearing it before. “I don’t know. I suppose we’ll send word to Haven, let them know we’ve failed. That… was not the Lord Seeker I remember.”

A messenger tapped Avexis’ shoulder, and a jolt of static electricity crossed from her body to his hand, she turned, the ends of her hair floating in midair. The man backed off abruptly. “I apologize,” he thrust an envelope into her hand from a distance. “What’s this?”

He stammered as he backed away, “An invitation, from my mistress, First Enchanter Vivienne, to a salon at her manor, just outside the city.”

Avexis blanched, her eyes swallowed by her pupils until only a pale ring of purple surrounded the black. “Vivienne is in Val Royeaux?”

“Who is she?” Blackwall asked Cassandra under his breath.

“The former First Enchanter of Avexis’ old Circle.” Cassandra swallowed, and gripped her sword again, as if to reassure herself it was at her side. “You don’t have to go, Avexis. I don‘t like what Galyan used to say about…”

Avexis pressed her lips together, eyes worried. “On the contrary, I have no choice. I… I answer to my First Enchanter. I am loyal to the Circle, even if the Circle doesn‘t…” The envelope shivered in her hands. “She’s claimed to be a loyalist, if I remember right, since the Circles fell. Perhaps... perhaps that will... Galyan was livid - she claimed to be neutral when she ascended to her title.” She flushed in belated anger - as bitter as if it had happened yesterday. “He was overlooked for the position, because he was a loyalist, despite everything he had done for the Cercle de Montsimmard* over the years.”

“If she was a loyalist, why didn’t she come to the Conclave?” Blackwall frowned, “Something’s fishy, and I don’t mean the smell coming from the lake.”

Avexis touched her forehead scar gently. “I have to go, I’m afraid. I have to hear what she has to say, as a representative of my Circle, even if I don‘t agree with the way she plays the Game.”

“And I thought Circle politics were complicated in Kirkwall,” muttered Varric. “But we’ve got your back, Fancy,” he sighed, “Lead on.”

<EotD>

 

The manor’s gate scrolled and curved with gilded branches, and closed with a sound behind Avexis like the clang of a prison cell. “At least the language is familiar,” she muttered to Cassandra as she showed her invitation to the guards at the gate and they drew back inside to notify their mistress of her arrival.

“You should try to relax,” Cassandra began, her own shoulders stiff.

“Relaxing could kill me. Vivienne has never been approachable.“ She looked up at the four stories of windows, “Madame de Fer,” she murmured to herself, “what game are you playing now?”

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Cassandra offered, with extreme reluctance.

“No…” Avexis lied. “I should do this alone. It’s possible that she just wants information. I can give her that.” She looked up again, seeing shadows move on the other side of gauzy curtains, wondering for the first time if it was a good thing that the Circles had fallen so completely. Power seeped from the stones of the manor itself. Perhaps, if the Orlesian Game manipulated the Montsimmard Circle so easily, it was best for it to fall, and be rebuilt from its ashes.

Cassandra pressed her lips together, but Blackwall was the one to protest, “That doesn’t seem wise… these Orlesian nobles can be right bastards…”

“Thank you, Blackwall, but… I need to go alone.” He nodded, very slowly, and stroked his beard.

“As you wish, my lady.”

Avexis took a deep breath and flexed her magic, feeling her mana gather and pool at the ready, a comforting reminder that she had weapons that the other guests did not. She lifted her chin and strolled into the building in an attempt to appear regal, recognizing that in a situation like this what she appeared to believe about herself mattered when others were forming their first impressions. Their small group had done their best with what they had available to them, and her uniform and dragon-topped staff were official looking, if too practical for such an elegant soiree.

A kind couple greeted her cordially as she entered, relieving her of her first worry - that of standing ignored in a corner until somebody took notice of her - and she spoke to them briefly about the Inquisition cause as she waited for their hostess to show herself, knowing that Vivienne would need to appear to best advantage. “The Inquisition, what a load of pig shit,” sneered a stranger in response to her jesting words that all the stories were true. The two people exchanged glances and drifted away.

“We’re trying to restore peace,” she started, already regretting not insisting on Cassandra accompanying her. Perhaps it wasn’t too late… she took half a step back towards the door, knowing that she would be waiting in the courtyard, worrying.

“Here’s the outsiders, trying to restore peace with an army,” the man countered. “If you had any sense of honor you would step outside…”

“I’m as Orlesian as you are, Monsieur.“ Avexis braced herself, hoping that it wouldn‘t come to a duel. She didn’t want to kill anyone… “And if I wasn’t here on Inquisition business, I would answer your challenge gladly. I assure you, the Inquisition is a force for peace, not more war.” She took a breath, intending to continue, when with a snap of fingers - not her own, even if she was capable of such a feat - the man was incased in ice before her.

“Avexis, darling!” Vivienne glided down the stairs like she didn’t have feet, much less the high-heeled boots showing from under her overly stylized robes, a collar wider than her horned hat curving away from a swanlike throat. “It _is_ you. How delightful.”

Avexis, despite her own carefully chosen clothing, felt more like a servant than a Herald of the Prophetess. She sighed, and greeted her formally. “Bonjour, Premiere Enchanteresse Vivienne*.” She curtseyed deep, head bowed, and held the position as she had been taught so long ago, until her leg began to shake and her neck ache.

Vivienne laughed as she reached the bottom of the stairs, “Oh, dear heart, you are as charming as I remembered,” she raised her up and kissed both her cheeks. “I’m not surprised in the least to discover you, of all Tranquil, were chosen to become Andraste’s Herald.” She squeezed her shoulder. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Madame de Fer, how can I assist?” The very air of this manor seemed to drain her energy. Even before her Rite, she had no patience with the Game. But it had never mattered before. This mattered - it was just possible that if she stepped wrong, she wouldn‘t leave this party alive. Avexis thoughts scattered, her mind dizzy, and her breath caught too soon in her chest.

“I want to join your Inquisition,” Vivienne guided her over to a nearby window, leaving the man frozen behind them. “Come away from the crowd, darling, and get some air. You seem… winded.”

“Shouldn’t you,” Avexis began, waving her hand in his direction as she gasped for air.

“If you insist,” Vivienne snapped her fingers. “By the grace of Andraste, you live another day,” she told the man. “Do make the most of the life you’ve been given?” The man stumbled out of the house without another word.

Avexis continued, sucking air into her lungs. “It’s not my Inquisition, First Enchanter. It’s…” she frowned, realizing for the first time that they didn’t really have a leader, other than the Right and Left Hands of the Divine, “perhaps you should speak to Seeker Pentaghast? I could arrange a meeting…”

“I have much to offer your cause, my dear, you must recognize that. And _you_ are the Herald of Andraste. I don‘t need to speak to the Right Hand.”

Avexis gave up her protests. “Why?” Avexis gestured around her. “Why would you offer to leave all this? Why would you leave Orlais? We‘re based out a third rate village in Ferelden, and we’re on the edge of being thrown out of Val Royeaux entirely, if you talk to the gendarmes, who blame us for the attack on Mother Hevara and the loss of the Templars. What about your Duke?” She asked the last question very lowly, as if it was a secret.

Vivienne sighed, and Avexis was once again aware at how much of this setting was staged. A lovely home, a large party, distinguished guests, all of it spread before her to impress and intimidate. “The Chantry, my dear. It needs the loyalist mages. I can only answer the calling that has been placed before me. My own comfort is nothing in comparison. I like luxury, but I don‘t need it. You know how much I admired Divine Justinia…”

“Excuse me, Madame, I could be mistaken, but…” Avexis hesitated, but pressed on. She owed it to the Inquisition to get the truth before she agreed to anything foolish, “but I don’t remember you being a loyalist. Senior Enchanter D’Marcall…”

Vivienne’s eyes flashed in disapproval, “Surely you are not so innocent,” her voice remained light, however menacing her eyes. “I have always been a loyalist, child. I needed to appear neutral, that is all, in order to gain the votes necessary to rise. Regalyan was an idealist, too focused on being transparent - he could never have held the office of First Enchanter at Montsimmard, not after Fiona!” She clucked chidingly, “You were a brilliant pupil, before your Rite, despite your trouble with languages. I know you understand how these things work.”

Avexis resisted the urge to sass back like an adolescent, knowing nothing good could come of it - the First Enchanter would not be amused, and Madame de Fer was dangerous when riled. She had already pushed too far, questioning the older mage’s allegiances. “I suppose we would be delighted to have you, Madame. The Inquisition could use a mage of your skill.” Her mind flip-flopped in disagreement with her words - but there was no real way to turn her down. Vivienne always held the upper hand.

“Oh, call me Vivienne,” the older mage patted her cheek gently. “After all, the Herald of Andraste is a title far above that of a mere First Enchanter.” She smiled, too sweetly. “You are my superior, now.”

That shouldn’t have sounded so dire, and Avexis suppressed her shiver. “Very well, welcome to the Inquisition, Vivienne.”

“Excellent! And don’t worry about me, dear, I’ll make my own way to Haven. In the meantime, enjoy the party. There are those little cakes you‘ve always loved with the buffet. Help yourself.”

Avexis watched her glide away to rejoin her guests, and whispered, “I’m your superior, Vivienne?” She blew out a shudder, and stepped towards the door. “You might regret that, someday.”

 

<EotD>

 

“I’m exhausted,” Avexis sunk into the café‘s padded chair the next day, fighting the desire to slip her feet out of her shoes, and rub them.

“Let me buy you a drink, then,” rumbled Blackwall. Cassandra sighed, pointedly. “Don’t be like that, Seeker. We can take a short break from errands. Have a drink with us. A little wine, a little fruit, maybe some cheese?”

“None of us are Fereldan,” Cassandra groused.

“Speak for yerself,” Sera - the elf they had recruited the day before as their odd reward for an successful scavenger hunt through the darkest back alleys of Val Royeaux - contradicted them. “I’d take some of that. Nothing stinky or blue, though. I don‘t do moldy.”

“Fruit would be nice,” Avexis admitted. “I’m too sleepy to eat, but I would nibble.” They were all tired of shopping after a long day of hunting down the cheapest prices for things the Inquisition desperately needed, preceded by a night of fighting pantless guards in the service of some noble who had been spreading lies about the Inquisition. Avexis had already forgotten his name, but as the elf archer had killed him dead while he blustered and challenged her, it was all good.

“Consider it done,” Blackwall rumbled, and met the eye of the waiter quickly. “Some white wine, and a plate of fruit and cheese, if you please,” he asked politely. “Anything else, ladies?”

“I would like something red and rich, not white,” Avexis corrected bluntly. “The darker the better. Nothing thin and sparkling. Wine should taste like wine, not juice.”

“I’ll have the same,” Cassandra ordered.

Sera made a face, “Gross. I just want an ale. You do that shite here, right? You know - ale?” The last was drawled deliberately, as if he didn’t speak Common.

The waiter eyed her dubiously. “Quite.”

“Don’t insult him, Sera,” Avexis whispered, and kicked her under the table. “He speaks better Common than either of us.”

Sera cackled and kicked back. “Ouch! Herald‘s got her pointy shoes on.”

“Stop it, both of you,” demanded Cassandra. “I shouldn’t have to… chaperone all of you. You’re adults, act like it.” She pulled a book out of her bag and proceeded to ignore them.

“Eh, you lot are no fun,” Sera stood up, huffing. “I don’t trust this place not to piss in a cup and call it ale. I‘m getting out of here. Meet you back at the camp, I guess?”

Avexis waved to her weakly, just before the woman smashed a vial of smoke into the pavements and disappeared, her cackling laugh echoing against the stone walls. Blackwall chuckled. “I guess it’s just you, me and the Seeker, then,” he murmured. Cassandra flipped a page pointedly. “Must be a good book.” Varric’s face smirked openly from the back cover. “Wait, is she reading…” Avexis shook her head at him rapidly before he could finish his thought. “Her secret’s safe with me,” Blackwall cleared his throat. “So what should we talk about, Your Worship?”

“The Wardens?” Avexis asked, in some confusion. “What were you doing during the Blight, perhaps?” The fruit platter was delivered, and she picked up an apple wedge, and nibbled, listening. “Wait, you were in Ferelden?”

“I was recruiting,” Blackwall corrected.

The waiter returned, with a mug of ale, two glasses of red wine, and one white, and placed them before them with the superior air only Orlesian waiters possessed. Avexis felt a stab of regret at having to leave her old hometown. “Will there be anything else?”

“Merci, monsieur,” Avexis murmured as he drew away without waiting for a response. “So… why weren’t you at the final battle?”

“I was late getting the news of where they were meeting, a little confusion about whether they were massing the armies at Denerim or Redcliffe,” Blackwall picked up his glass. “Missed the whole thing.”

Avexis frowned, “You rather make a habit of being out of the way.”

“Always been a loner,” he agreed, “works better for everyone that way.” He averted his eyes and changed the subject. “Milady, what do you have there,” he nodded at her glass.

Avexis took another sip, “It’s not bad,” she admitted. “Peppery. I like pepper. Little hits of chocolate. Plum, I think - something fruity deep underneath, but it‘s not the first thing I taste. You?”

Blackwall snorted, “It’s drinkable. Barely. I’m with Sera. I’m more of an ale man.” He lifted Sera’s mug up. “Don’t think she’ll mind, do you?”

Avexis laughed. “I don’t imagine so. Ale and cheese then? Is that a Marcher thing as well as Fereldan?”

“I haven’t been home in decades,” huffed Blackwall. “This is just who I am, milady.”

“I can drink to that. I’d rather have whisky,“ Avexis raised her glass and pinged it against his cermaic stein. “To being ourselves.“ They both took a sip. “So… you won the Grand Melee, you said before? How does that work, exactly? I‘ve never seen a tournament… what did you have to do to win?”

 

<EotD>

 

That evening, about a half hour before sunset, Avexis stared at the bundles of socks hanging from the stall just down the street from the marketplace. “You have money, Josie made sure you had an allowance,” an irritated Cassandra reminded her. “If you are so enamored of warm socks, why not get some wool? The raw materials will cost less than the finished product. Just buy something, and let‘s get back to the tavern, before Varric spreads more wild stories about you through Val Royeaux.”

She raised a hand to feel the wool, hanging next to the socks. “I like this one,” it was merino wool, the label read, and softer than anything she had ever felt. “But I don’t know how to make it into yarn. They didn‘t teach spinning in the Circle. They don‘t seem to have any already spun… and I don‘t knit, in any case.”

Sera blew a raspberry directly in her ear, appearing out of nowhere, and Avexis jumped back. “Oh, that’s shite’s easy, ain’t it?” She reached around her and grabbed a round top-like device and held it by two fingers. “Did it for years when I was wee. Thought everybody knew how. Made money, snitching the wool from sheep just outside of town and making yarn.”

Avexis’ eyes widened in disbelief, “Snitching… does that mean you stole wool? Didn’t the sheep mind?”

“I’d imagine the farmers cared more,” drawled Cassandra.

“Never caught me, and the sheep didn’t miss it. I imagine they were less itchy after I took my bit, nasty smelly things,” snorted the archer. “Come on,” she tugged Avexis. “How much you got? Get one of these, and something cheap to learn with, so you don’t ruin the poncy stuff.”

Avexis took out her money pouch and glanced at Cassandra. “It’s your gold,” the Seeker smiled, “You can spend it as you please. Learning something new might help your focus, as well,” she admitted. “I have heard such things before.”

“Lemme do the bargaining,” Sera warned her. “These Orlesian flints will skin you if you let ‘em.”

"I'm Orlesian, Sera."

"What of it?"

Avexis left the stall with a new bag - thrown in for free - bulging with raw wool, including the merino, and a drop spindle, and fine knitting needles, as well as a few bottles of rich purple dye, labeled ‘ _Violent Violet_ ‘. “It’ll match your eyes,” Sera mumbled, when Avexis, caught lifting the bottles, shyly admitted it was her favorite color to the shopkeeper. Her new companion cackled as they left. “We got you a deal! Took that bugger for all he was worth!”

“What? We cheated him?” Avexis stopped dead. “Sera, we have to go back.”

The girl snorted, “As if. He’ll take our savings out of the next guy who‘s not smart enough to drive a bargain. It all works out, don’t it?” She eyed her grudgingly, “It wasn’t just me. You looked at him with those pretty eyes and he melted. Works for some, I guess.” The elf kicked a loose paving stone. “Hasn’t worked for me since I was a kid.”

Avexis recovered and started walking again, conscious of Cassandra’s amusement. “I didn’t intend to…”

“’Course not,” Sera grinned, “That’s the point. I should know.” The elf slapped her on the back. “Gonna take you shopping more often. I won‘t let them cheat you, and all you have to do is stand there and look bug-eyed. Come on, let's go find some real fun.”

"Fun. Right." Avexis sighed, and re-shouldered her new bag. "Let's go."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I see the Circle of Montsimmard as being the political head of the Circles in Orlais - even though the White Spire was larger. Fiona was from there, Regalyan was from there, and Vivienne as well. That can't be a coincidence.
> 
> Orlesian phrases:  
> *Cercle = Circle, so the Cercle de Montsimmard is the Montsimmard Circle.
> 
> *Bonjour, Premiere Enchanteresse Vivienne - 'Good day, First Enchanter Vivienne'. I had some fun with this particular translation. I hope I got it right. Premiere is 'First' and 'Enchanteresse' is Enchantress. I decided that Orlesian enchanters of the female persuasion would likely choose to go by the feminine form rather than the masculine. I almost went with 'sorciere', but that, to my knowledge, has more of a 'witch' connotation than a formal practitioner of magic. So I'm... setting that word aside for use later. :D If I have this wrong, let me know! I am more than happy to fix things so that they read right. Having never played the game with French subtitles, I know I'll get things wrong.
> 
> ...Though I want to do it now.


	8. Assumptions, Obsessions, and Mom

The group returned slower, given their wagon full of needed supplies, but when they finally rolled back into Haven, Cullen saw them from where he was drilling the latest recruits. He took a step forward to help Avexis off her horse, but Blackwall was already there. He frowned, and caught Cassandra’s eye.

The Seeker glared at him, so he made the point to keep walking forward to meet the group halfway, not willing to risk her ire, if there was something he needed to intervene in. Maker knew their trip had been less than successful.

Varric swung himself down from his own new, much smaller mount, and sauntered over. “I’d give it up, Curly,” he admitted in a mutter. “Those two were thick as thieves, this trip. He volunteered to shop with her, followed her around Val Royeaux like a lost puppy, and then bought her lunch afterward, the two of them babbling a mile a minute in Orlesian about Maker knows what.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Cullen protested, his face stone. “I was just going to help her down. But the Herald already has found assistance, I see.”

Varric glanced at him, not without sympathy. “Look, you don’t have to lie to me. I see how you look at her. Void take it, I look at her - and trust me, she’s not my type. Too… exotic. But she’s got baggage, of the Templar kind, I’m guessing. You should have seen her react when that Templar asshole hit that Revered Mother. I thought lightning was going to strike in the middle of Val Royeaux‘s market.”

“I’m not a Templar…”

“And I’m not a Deshyr,” retorted Varric. “We are what we are, even if we don’t like it. I don’t want to see you get hurt, Curly. You were decent to Sunshine when you could have been a real ass. You backed us when Meredith tipped over the final edge. You’re a nice guy, at least some of the time. But in this race, my money’s on Hero. There’s nothing in the way there. No politics, no magic, no tragic pasts to overcome.” Varric patted his arm and wandered off, shaking his head. “Just once… listen to me.”

Avexis had already disappeared, Cassandra with her, by the time Cullen had recovered from the dwarf‘s warning. Awkwardly, he returned to training recruits, ignoring Rylen’s knowing looks.

Cullen was even more restless than usual that night, tossing and turning on his frigid cot in the large tent set up for his use on the edge of the recruit camp. He knew he shouldn‘t, given the tone of the rumors flying around the camp after the last time, but he finally flung off the covers and threw the bare minimum of clothing on, topping the layers with his cloak. He stomped his way out to the damned rock, fists clenched, trying not to think about - well, anything really. He definitely wasn’t thinking about a woman who could make terrible puns in two languages, cry without self-consciousness, and had a strange obsession with socks. One who was showing an odd preference for the company of a bearded one-time chevalier turned Warden who might be too old for her…

“I’m such a fool,” he muttered aloud, and glanced up at the sky. Judex was front and center that night, and he scowled at it, as if it was the constellation‘s fault, as he settled down to his solitude.

Maybe it was the Sword of Mercy’s fault. It certainly hadn’t done him any favors…

“Cullen!” His name made him start, lost as he was in his own thoughts. Avexis was staring up at him from the bottom of the sloped rock. This time she was better dressed for the elements, bundled up thoroughly with a hood hanging down her back, her ears peeking out from under her loose hair, and a bag at her side. “I mean… Commander,” she smiled wide, and brushed her hair back behind her ears. “I was hoping to see you… I mean -” was she flushing?

“Did you need something?” his voice was hoarse and he cleared his throat.

“No, I just hoped you’d be at your rock,” she nodded and moved forward to scramble up, dropping the bag by her side. “I wanted to show you something.” She glanced up and smiled, “Judex is bright, isn’t it? I would think the Breach would block out more stars. But look - you can even see Equinor.”

Cullen hesitated, but gave into his desire to smile, “You remembered my name.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t ask if it were appropriate…” Avexis’ face fell. “I should call you Commander, shouldn’t I? We really haven’t reached that level of informality… we shouldn‘t use the familiar form of address. It lacks respect for your position. How do you ask that sort of thing in Common?”

“You just… do it. No extra fumbling necessary. Cullen is fine,” he said lowly, and angled himself sideways. “Did you buy something in Val Royeaux for yourself?” He caught himself smiling wider, “Josephine will be pleased. She told me at length she hoped you‘d find something to indulge in, though her money was on sweets or cakes. She worried you were miserable here, so far from home and everything familiar.”

“Josie worried? About me?” Avexis blinked in surprise. “She told me to spend it wisely. This might not count as wise, but…” she shrugged, in a way that was a bit too familiar given how little time they had spent together. “But Cassandra told me I should do it, and Sera helped strike the bargain,” she unloaded the bag eagerly, and showed off her treasures.

“Wool? Why did you buy wool in Orlais? Ferelden has plenty of wool, and of far better quality,” Cullen’s confusion showed in his face. “And is Sera the archer you brought back?”

Avexis flushed, but she lifted her chin proudly, “Yes, I bought Orlesian wool! I’m learning to make my own socks! And yes, Sera is the archer. She’s… a bit odd, and I have some trouble following her when she speaks Common. She uses the strangest words for everything, but I like her. I think.”

His laughter over her tone of disbelief surprised him, and it bounced off the rocks and buildings, multiplied by a hundred little echoes before he could stop it. “I should have realized that any personal purchase you make would involve socks,” he agreed, mouth twisting. He picked up the vial of dye, reading the curvy writing on the label. “Violet? You’re going to make purple socks?”

Avexis dipped her head in embarrassment, “Violet’s my favorite.” She lifted the drop spindle, “The spinning is a little tricky, but Cassandra says my focus might improve with such work…”

“And you get warm socks out of it. Dry socks in Ferelden are a luxury like no other,” Cullen chuckled, and took the spindle. “My sister used to have one of these,” he admitted, turning it around in his fingers.

“Do you know how?” Avexis asked eagerly. “Sera is teaching me, but she gets bored easily and runs off when I make too many mistakes…”

“No, but I knit,” Cullen offered freely. “I can help you set the heels, when you get that far. That‘s the most difficult part.”

Avexis held out a massive grey skein of already spun yarn, “I’m hoping to find a place to dye this tomorrow. I was hoping Flissa might be willing to help, as I don’t have a large enough basin - she must wash her mugs somewhere, right? At least, I hope she does… Or is there a laundry tub I could use? After it dries, I can start learning to knit.” She slipped it back into her bag, and wrapped her arms around her knees and looked up at the sky. “It feels good, to be learning something new. I had forgotten what it was like. As a Tranquil, I learned constantly, but there was no satisfaction in achievement. You just kept… moving on to the next thing.” They were quiet together for a few minutes, watching the stars.

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, and draped his own arm around his knees so that he faced her more directly. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be out here tonight,” he confessed.

“I’m struggling with the meditations,” Avexis fretted, and fiddled with the hem of her coat. The leather fringe - new made before her trip to the Hinterlands already looked frazzled and broken in. “It doesn’t stop the dreams, and the demons are almost always dragons now. That’s gotten a lot worse since I… heard the first one outside the Crossroads. I can… understand them, sometimes…” she stopped abruptly and looked at him with a trace of fear. “I can’t always defeat them, and while I can still run away easily enough, one of these days, I’m afraid I won’t wake up.” Her eyes looked bruised with lack of sleep - a look too familiar. “But… don’t tell Cassandra. She’s worried enough, after what happened with the Lord Seeker.”

Cullen reached out and touched her knee in sympathy. “I… I know how you feel. During the Blight…” he coughed, “Well, few people who lived through the Blight like to tell their stories.”

“What happened to you?” Avexis whispered, and then promptly apologized, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… pry.” She looked away. “My own story is so well known, I forget that not everyone is so comfortable sharing theirs.” She stood up. “I should go.”

“Weren’t you going to spin for a while?” Cullen puzzled aloud. “You don’t have to run away. I‘m not a dragon,” he tried to joke.

She blinked rapidly, “Yes, I mean…” she wiped her eyes, but they were dry. “Varric says I don’t have a filter,” she added, not looking at him, “That I make people uncomfortable when I ask personal questions. I hurt Cassandra, asking about her older brother, and the Seekers… aren’t you… you aren’t… uneasy?”

Cullen opened his mouth to deny it, and then paused, “I’m a little uncomfortable, talking about the Blight,” he said, voice gentle. “But I would like you to stay. We can talk about something else while you spin.”

She smiled, slightly. “All right,” she took out her work, a small bundle of wool, and a spindle, “Then… tell me what it was like being a Templar. A typical day.” She settled back down, and looked at him expectantly.

“You were in the Circle,” Cullen reminded her skeptically. “And my two Circles were anything but typical.” He brooded a bit, remembering.

“But I never asked any of my Templar friends about their training, and it might be important, if we‘re going to recruit them for help with the Breach,” she grinned, and he noted a single shallow dimple, thrown into shadow by the light of the moon. “Tell me about your vows. Are they like the Seekers? Cassandra tells me that she had to do a year long vigil…” She arched an eyebrow at him, “I’ve heard that some Templars take vows of celibacy…” she prompted.

Cullen snorted, and admitted, despite his shock, “I’ve taken no such vows.” Was he imagining her flush? Was she… flirting with him? He had never seen this side of her. It was a little dizzying, but he couldn’t look away. In the moonlight, her eyes were almost silver. “Some did, but it… wasn’t required.”

She smirked, “I know.” She looked away and cleared her throat. “I mean, I counted Templars as friends, and I knew many of them weren‘t… not that it stopped a few that had made the vows, but they weren‘t exactly…” she stopped, and spun her thread idly for a few minutes. “I came, I saw, I made it awkward, just like Varric says I always do. I didn’t mean to end up talking about your personal affairs. I‘m just… homesick, I suppose.”

Cullen laughed, only slightly bothered, and still preferring this line of questioning to talking about the Blight. “I certainly wasn‘t celibate, if you were asking.”

Avexis glanced sideways but refocused on her thread, feeding a little more into the spindle. “Neither was I, though perhaps I shouldn‘t admit it,” she flushed deeper, so that he could see the color change in her pale skin, even in the inadequate light. “I knew mages that were - my mentor was one of them. She thought attachment weakened us, but…”

“I had a Knight-Commander who thought the same way,” Cullen pressed his lips together, but pushed on, “And another who was involved with a mage for quite a while. There was a rumor he had a child with her. She gave the child up. The Circle was still whispering about it, several decades later.”

Avexis whistled, the noise reverberating around the camp, and nearly dropped her spindle. “Oops,” she muttered, and flashed him another look. “Cassandra had an affair with Regalyan. For years.” Cullen stared for a few minutes, wondering if she was challenging his beliefs on such relationships, or just gossiping idly.

“I know,” he finally said. “She told me, while you slept after the Breach. Most affairs don’t last that long.”

“Most mages don’t even bother with ‘affairs’,” Avexis contradicted. “Just individual encounters. Arrangements, maybe. Friends with benefits - isn’t that the phrase in Common? Varric’s been working on my slang.” She snickered, “That would be some benefit to being ‘friends‘.”

Cullen cleared his throat, “It’s a practical choice, for those so… inclined.”

Avexis blinked, but her hands kept moving. “Commander, did you…”

“Cullen. And that’s a very personal question,” he prevaricated, his mind spinning in time with her spindle. Was this how she spoke with Blackwall? If so, he understood why Varric was convinced that…

“Tetons d’Andraste*, I’m sorry,” she pressed her hand to her lips. “I crossed the line, didn’t I? I was just curious and it slipped out.” She ripped off the end of her wool and twisted it quickly around itself. “I should go. I’m sorry for prying, Commander.” She stuffed the loose skein into the bag, and stood. She slipped off the rock, planting her boots firmly into the snow.

“Avexis, wait,” Cullen called after her. “Will I… will I see you tomorrow night?” He was tempted to answer her question, but…

“You want me to come back?” Avexis turned back and looked upwards at him, her hair illuminated by the green of the Breach, and sparking in the dry air with the faint light of static electricity. His gut clenched - whether with fear or awe he could not say. She was eerie, and beautiful. But she was still speaking, “Really? Haven’t I made you uncomfortable enough yet?” She stepped back towards him, disbelief dripping from her tongue, “I only get one word answers from Blackwall anymore, since I pried thoroughly into his experience during the Blight. And Solas has stopped talking to me almost altogether, even about the Fade. Too many professional and cultural differences to get along, I guess. He doesn‘t cope well when someone disagrees with him. He’s a… spoiled egg. Even Varric grows annoyed with me talking about how the magic Orsino performed in his book was impossible, even for blood magic. I‘m positive that he must have gotten the details wrong. Necromancy isn‘t supposed to work like that - it deals with spirits, not flesh directly.”

Cullen answered after a long minute. “I like your company.” He sounded stiff, he was aware, and overly formal. “I would like to talk with you again… if you’d like.”

She searched his face. “I’m leaving for Redcliffe in two days, to try to seal some rifts outside the town, and speak to the rebels, but we’re going around by way of the Storm Coast to investigate that mercenary company that sent a representative,” she said finally. “But if you want - I’ll come by tomorrow.” She smiled, just a little. “I like your company, too. It‘s nice to not be alone in the middle of the night. Bonsoir, Commander.” She was backing away, and her red coattails billowed in the breeze, reminiscent of rounded wings.

She reminded him of an old nursery rhyme from long before his Templar training began. “My name is Cullen. Have you forgotten already?” He teased, with a half smirk, “Good night, Ladybird.”

“What?” she stopped again. “Ladybird? What’s that mean?”

“A small bug,” he said smugly, “from a children’s verse. ‘Ladybird, Ladybird, fly away home…’”

She narrowed her eyes, “I do not fly anywhere. I am not an insect, Cullen.”

“As you say,” Cullen bowed slightly, pleased that she had used his name again, “Avexis.”

 

<EotD>

 

Cassandra swept into his tent the next day with a glower that stopped him in his tracks. “I demand an explanation, Commander.”

“Sweet Maker, what have I done now?” Cullen pressed his fingers into his tired eyes. “I was up very late, and then very early this morning, Seeker…”

“Drop the act,” she declared, pressing her lips together, and glared at Rylen until the man made an excuse and left, his eyebrows raised in alarm and amusement at his superior officer. “I am here to inform you that you are being an idiot.”

“Nothing new, then,” Cullen muttered, and turned away. “Thank you, Seeker, for that professional assessment. If you‘re quite finished, I have recruits to train.”

Cassandra blocked the light coming from outside the tent with her body. “You spent the night with Avexis. Out of doors. The entire village speaks of it.”

Cullen blinked blankly. “Certainly not the entire night. We would have frozen. An hour, at most.” He bristled, “Seeker, are you insinuating…”

Cassandra’s brows lowered, “She is glowing.”

Cullen’s stomach clenched, “What? Is it her mark? Is she in pain? What’s happened?” He rose and strode around his desk, ready to go find her. “You should be fetching Solas, not talking to…”

“She is walking around Haven singing this morning - some Orlesian nonsense from three ages ago.” Cassandra was not glowing. “I am here to ask what your intentions are towards Enchanter Avexis. I have not forgotten, as you seem to have, that you are currently going through lyrium withdrawals, that she is a mage, one living up to near-impossible expectations as the Herald of Andraste, all while being somewhat unsteady in her emotions…”

“And she’s dear to you,” Cullen recovered from his moment of shock. “I currently have no intentions of the kind you… suggest, other than occasionally enjoying her company whilst we both suffer from insomnia.” He decided not to ask what song she had been singing - though if it was Orlesian, he’d have no idea what it was about, and wouldn‘t dare ask Leliana to translate it for him.

Cassandra flushed, “She told me it was getting better.”

“It is, I believe.” Cullen placed his quill down to rub the back of his neck. “I… like her, Cassandra. That’s all. We’re friendly. I think she likes me, despite our… divisive professions, but we‘ve barely spoken, truly. Perhaps you should be having this discussion with Warden Blackwall,” he suggested, suppressing bitterness and curiosity at the same time.

Cassandra’s eyebrows raised, “What nonsense. They only talk about whisky and wine and tournaments. Incredibly dull conversation topics. Nothing romantic at all. They only get effusive about it because Avexis has opinions about whisky and wine. Apparently peat is a good thing, for the former, and the latter needs to be dryer than the Western Approach and redder than blood to be any good. Smoke is bad all around.”

Cullen couldn‘t help but agree with both sentiments, but… “Varric said-”

“Varric is more of a fool than you are, and he doesn‘t speak fluent Orlesian. I do,” Cassandra’s demeanor had changed, to one of suppressed excitement. “If she is developing an… attachment to anyone, it is you. You only have to look at her this morning to realize it.” She stepped forward twice, and Cullen was forced to back up against his desk to avoid touching the suddenly aggressive Seeker. “You have not touched her.”

Cullen paused, thinking about going for his shield, safely stowed behind his desk, before he allowed, “I touched her knee. She was upset about her dreams, I was trying to comfort her.”

“You have not attempted…”

“Of course not!” Cullen narrowed his own eyes, “I’m not a barbarian, whatever you Nevarrans and Orlesians think of my homeland. I would never - at least, not without her permission-”

Cassandra relaxed. “Good.” She placed her hand on her sword and the fingers twitched. “I should not tell you this,” she said after a few seconds. “But… she had an… incident. In the Circle.” She swung her glare back up at Cullen, “You will not even say anything, unless she says something first.”

Cullen lifted a single eyebrow in disbelief, tinged with hurt, “I thought you trusted me.”

Cassandra snorted, “I do trust you. More than anyone else in the Inquisition. Otherwise I’d be challenging you to a duel, not giving you a chance to prove yourself.” She narrowed her eyes and sized him up. “I would win, if you’re curious.”

“I have no doubt,” Cullen cleared his throat. “I will be a perfect gentleman, Seeker.”

“All right,” Cassandra relaxed. “Then you have my permission to see her at night, when neither of you are sleeping.” She raised her chin and squinted, “Tell no one about this conversation, especially Avexis,” and swept out of the tent. “I won’t have her upset. She sleeps poorly enough already.”

Cullen rubbed his neck and shook his head to clear it, wondering what had just happened. One thing, at least, was clear - apparently Varric’s ’secret’ nickname for Cassandra wasn’t as far off as Avexis thought it was.

And it had nothing to do with bears.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Tetons d'Andraste - Andraste's tits. I actually debated whether or not Andraste should be used not as a name (as there is a similar name in elven - 'Andrale' - that suggests that Andraste might have a root word meaning 'singer', instead of being a first name. Wouldn't that be a twist - if Andraste was a Alamaari job title like Augur or Sky Watcher instead of a first name?!), in which case it would have been 'Tetons de l'Andraste', but I decided that since most Andrastians refer to her as Andraste instead of 'the Andraste', it would probably be used this way.
> 
> Yes, I put this much thought into my curses. You're welcome? And if I'm wrong, someone tell me. I'll correct it.


	9. Bowstrings, Heartstrings, and Knitting Needles

“Should’ve brought popcorn,” Sera giggled. “Lookit the elfy elf with the bow. That’s some fancy shite work, right there.” The five of them - Cassandra, Blackwall, Varric, Sera and herself, watched the mercenaries work from the Storm Coast cliff that sloped down to the Waking Sea. Solas had stated his disinterest in recruiting mercenaries and remained behind at camp, and Vivienne had flatly refused to accompany them - intending to travel directly to the Hinterlands instead.

Avexis squinted, “Isn’t that a staff?” The wind and salt spray made her shiver, and she pulled up her cowl, unfortunately made to repel fire, not water, to try to keep some warmth next to her skin, while they stood and observed.

Sera snorted, “She’s not a mage. It’s a bow. You think I don’t know a bow when I see one? Blimey. It‘s huge!”

“I know a staff when I see one,” Avexis reminded her, and Sera sniggered. “Stop that. You know that’s not what I meant." She blushed, "Damn it, Sera, you’re the one that said it was huge.” Sera doubled over in cackles of glee. “Look - it has a crystal focus, and she’s firing pure elements, not…”

“The Herald knows a staff when she sees one!” Sera crowed, and started unslinging her own weapons, drawing three arrows out of her quiver to hold between her fingers, ready to fire. “I’m gonna get in on this fun. We gonna fight or stand around and look pretty in the rain, All Touched Herald?” The mischievous elf struck a pose at the top of the cliff, dark against the light flashing off the water.

Blackwall rumbled, “Milady looks lovely wherever she is.”

Avexis shifted uncomfortably, “Right. Let’s give them a hand. Not that they need it, but we might as well see if we can work together, yes? We can… try to limit casualties or something?”

Cassandra, Varric, and Blackwall slid down the slope sideways into the thick of battle, and Avexis concentrated from her place on the hill, next to Sera, who crowed as her first arrow hit her target, and then warned her, irritably, “Watch where you throw your sparks. I, for one, don‘t want to learn to glow in the dark. Eyes‘re bad enough, right?” Avexis concentrated, and in the next minute, lightning emerged from her body to temporarily stun her enemies. “Maker, that’s creepy,” Sera muttered, but she was firing arrows as fast as she could line them up, hitting almost every target. “Wish you wouldn’t do that when I’m around. I‘ve seen you accidentally shock Cass. I won‘t forgive you as easy as your ‘Mom‘ will.”

Avexis rolled her eyes and didn’t reply, too busy concentrating on the buildup of her mana to banter. Every spell took too much out of her, but she still made the effort to cast a barrier over both the warriors and the Qunari that must be the Iron Bull, judging by his second‘s description back in Haven.

The battle was short, but intense. Afterward, she slumped down onto a rock and stared dully, shivering as her power returned. Sera slapped her shoulder and she jerked forward. “Come on,” the elf dared, “Let’s go meet ‘em! This lot looks like fun. You need more fun!”

“Fun,” murmured Avexis. “Recruiting mercenaries is fun?”

“Now you’re getting it!”

The Iron Bull was… different. And he was fun, even more surprisingly. He handed her a mugful of Chasind Sack Mead while they talked, and propped himself up on a large rock while she settled on a driftwood log. “You’re a Qunari spy? And you just… admit it?”

“Eh, you’d have found it out soon enough,” Bull shrugged. “I hear you’re one for saying what’s on your mind. Better to get it out of the way before you blow what‘s left of my cover to all of Orlais and Ferelden.”

Avexis shrugged, and didn’t look at Blackwall. She was aware that she had crossed a line with him - much like she had with Cullen when asking him about his non-existent vows of celibacy. They were destined to have an awkward conversation - another awkward conversation. There had been several at this point, covering such crucial topics as whether or not his beard itched, a bewildering one with Sera about the thickness of Cassandra’s pubic hair that had caused her own hasty retreat (she failed to understand how the other elf kept dragging her into these impossible conversations - she always ended up being laughed at), and how you kill an archdemon. The final one had ended with him declaring that he was at her feet. She had replied in great confusion that he could stay there as far as she was concerned, and he had merely laughed and winked. That sort of approval was… worrying. “Well, I was Tranquil,” she lamely defended, dragging her thoughts back to the present and the large Qunari in front of her. “I could change into something with no face any moment. No time to waste while beating around the… hedge? Shrubbery?” She puzzled aloud. “Neither of those seem right.”

“Bush,” Blackwall surprised her with his answer, his arms folded across his chest while he stood directly behind her. “Beating around the bush.”

Sera snorted, murmured, “Places…” and giggled to herself.

Avexis tried to ignore both of them and kept going, “I don’t suppose you speak Orlesian?”

“I didn’t need to know that about the… demon thing.” The Iron Bull shivered, “Yeah, I speak Orlesian, though I‘d rather that didn‘t get around. You never know when being the stupid oxman can pay off. But… are we in? You’re doing good things. It‘s just a few letters, and your redheaded spymaster can approve everything that goes in ‘em. Full disclosure.”

Avexis glanced back at Cassandra, who shrugged. “It is your decision.”

“Since when?“ Avexis closed her eyes, but didn’t get any guidance aside from an oddly familiar dull roaring, both like and unlike the surf behind them, that she repressed with a shudder. “Please, don’t make me regret this?” She asked aloud, and held out her hand. “Welcome to the Inquisition, the Iron Bull. Now tell me something, is your Dalish elf with the bow an archer or a mage?”

“It’s a bow!” Several Chargers answered before Bull could even open his mouth.

Sera shoved her sideways and spilled her mead all over her pants. “Told ya!”

“You’re in denial, Sera.”

“And you can‘t be right all the time.”

<EotD>

It was back at camp - hastily assembled in a new location between bouts of rainstorms - when Blackwall sauntered up, with the determined air of a man who has to do something he doesn‘t particularly want to do. “I thought we could have a chat, milady,” he started, settling himself down on a log.

Avexis had intended to do a little spinning in her tent - the rain threatening to shrink her wool otherwise - but nodded cautiously. “That’s probably wise. We… need to talk about our… relationship?” She paled at the word - weighed in ways she wasn‘t comfortable with in the least.

“Just what I was thinking,” he cleared his throat. “Look, I realize that you might be sending out the wrong signals. Unintentional, like.”

Avexis slumped, “Right. Exactly. I didn’t intend… I have a hard time determining what‘s socially appropriate. I shouldn‘t have asked you about whether you had dwarven blood, given the beard - especially given how unlikely that actually is -, or about Warden secrets, or… said your eyes were pretty,” she nearly whispered the last, her face and ears red. “Maybe Andraste really did keep my mental filter as an offering.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” the warrior’s chuckle sounded deep in his chest. “I suspected as much. I’ve seen you and the Commander chatting.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Varric told me I had a chance, but from what I’ve seen, he‘s wrong. He‘s going to lose a lot of money, if he‘s betting on me.”

“It’s not like that,” Avexis protested, coloring. “The Commander is… we’re just bad sleepers. We meet up when neither of us can rest and… we’re just friends that meet in the middle of the night. Not that kind of friends!” She rushed to correct the misapprehension, belatedly remembering Varric‘s language lessons. “Just… friends. I spin or knit, and we talk a bit. He’s going to teach me to set heels,” she added feebly.

“That’s… an interesting euphemism,” Blackwall didn’t look convinced, grinning underneath the beard, “It’s fine, milady, I’m not the sort you’re looking for anyway,” he cleared his throat. “I’m not a good investment. Wardens move around too much. You‘re better off with someone else. The Commander is a good man. Worthy of respect.”

“I don’t know…” Avexis began, but stopped. “Yes, all right. Friends, then?”

“No hard feelings,” Blackwall held out his hand, and Avexis took it. He covered her hand with his other one. “You’re a lovely woman, and I’m honored to know you. You’re going to change the world, Avexis.”

“Not too much, I hope,” Avexis said acerbically, and withdrew her hand. “I liked it before.”

Blackwall raised an eyebrow, and then both of them. “I don’t think you did, milady,” he rumbled. “If you liked your life so much, you wouldn’t have given it up.”

Avexis frowned, “What do you mean? I didn‘t give up anything. The mages rebelled, and I came with the loyalists traveling to the Conclave.”

“You asked to be made Tranquil,” he stressed, “Asked. That must have meant that nothing in your life was worth getting excited about. Didn’t you have anyone you loved, or…” Avexis dropped her spindle. It hit the rocky ground with a crack. “I’m sorry,” he spoke gently, “I’ve stepped in it?”

“A bit,” Avexis glanced around, looking for Cassandra, to rescue her from the conversation she didn‘t want to have with anyone. “It was… complicated,” she admitted softly. “But I suppose you’re right. There was nothing - and no one - that I loved… enough.” She picked back up the spindle and ruefully fingered the split. “Merde*,” she whispered, “It‘s cracked. It‘ll splinter into the thread.” Her shoulders bowed. “It’s worthless now.”

“I’m so sorry,” Blackwall stood up. “I’ll get you a new one, first opportunity, milady. Bound to find somebody who sells that stuff in Redcliffe. Ferelden is second only to Starkhaven for wool production.”

Avexis stared at the spindle in confusion while he waited for her response, and let the tears drip, not really understanding why they were falling. She had chosen Tranquility despite Regalyan, despite everything - and everyone - else. She had never been alone, inside the Circle. She had colleagues and friends close enough to consider them family. What had made her think the Rite was the right choice?

Blackwall gave up on waiting, and turned to go, before pausing to look back over his shoulder, “For the record, milady, ‘just friends’ don’t look at each other like that.”

Avexis colored and hid her confusion by retrieving her bag. “I see. I’ll take care to… adjust my expressions to something more appropriate.”

“Why?” Blackwall raised both eyebrows. “It isn’t one sided, Your Worship. Why do you think I’m bowing out without a fight?” He chuckled, deep in his chest. “Maybe I should have a word with your Commander. We could fight a duel, I suppose, if he‘s mucking about with your tender feelings. If the Seeker doesn‘t beat me to it, anyway.”

Avexis choked, “Don’t you dare. Somebody might get hurt.”

“Oh? So you do care about him. In that case, I’ll hold off. Wouldn’t do to let your ’friend’ get hurt.” He finally departed, chest and shoulders shaking with amusement. Avexis grabbed the spindle and threw it at his back, missing him by two feet and hitting the tree next to her tent instead. Sighing, she moved into the tent, to find her knitting needles, and settled down to knit, trying to concentrate enough to count stitches.

Galyan’s face, perpetually worried and lined with the stress of his last days, floated to the forefront of her mind, and she had to pick out three rows when she realized she had forgotten to purl.

She had loved him. Not romantically - but he was her oldest, closest friend. Why hadn’t he been enough?

She sat like that, unseeing the work in front of her until darkness fell, telling Varric she wasn’t hungry when he came by to tell her there was stew. She only tucked the sock away when Cassandra entered the tent, and even then she laid awake, staring at the shadows cast by the trees on the outside of the canvas by the light of the hissing campfire. She only dropped into the unsettling atmosphere of the Fade as the sun came up, with the final, echoing question running through her head, with the cadence of the tide.

Why had she chosen the Rite?

Apparently even her demons didn't know the answer to that question.

<EotD>

“It’s a dragon,” she repeated again, her face hard to hide the fear that had erupted when she finally realized what, precisely, the echoing roar in her head came from. She wrapped her hands tighter around her staff, willing the massive high dragon - and the giant - to pretend she wasn’t there. _Please don’t notice me… go away, go away, go away…_

“Hot damn, that‘s bad-ass!” The Iron Bull bounced on the balls of his feet. “Let’s get closer. I bet we could take that giant, Boss, with it gone, we could…”

“No,” she shook her head. “No. We aren’t getting any closer. Ever.” She took two steps backward. _I’m not here. You never saw me… go away, go away, go away…_

The dragon, as if hearing her, lifted it’s head and - Boules de Créateur, was it looking at her? At them?

Bull pouted, “But, Boss…”

Varric put a hand on his arm. “For a spy, you’re missing a lot of subtext, Bull. Don’t you know who the Herald is?”

“Yeah, yeah, she was involved in an attempt on the Divine’s life 20 years ago… I‘ve read her file.”

“19,” corrected Cassandra dryly.

“You sure about that?”

“Trust me, I’m aware of my own age.”

“You’re that Seeker?” Bull slapped his forehead, but his eye suggested that he had already known. Avexis narrowed her own eyes - was this some sort of test? “There’s too many of you Pentaghasts around to keep track of. But if you can talk to dragons, Boss, we’ve got this made! Just… freeze it in place and I’ll take it from there. It’ll be awesome.”

“I’m no good with ice and I can’t…”

“She can’t do anything of the sort,” Cassandra bit off. “Not without boosting her mana…”

“So… take some lyrium or something,” Bull begged.

“Lyrium…” Avexis cleared her throat, “Lyrium isn’t exactly - calming, the Iron Bull.”

Bull cast his eye over the small group, minus Sera, who was off in the bushes trying to lure a nug out of hiding with a strip of bacon leftover from breakfast. In a swift movement, he lifted the fall of hair across her forehead. “This have to do with Tranquility, Boss?”

“Yes,” she relaxed ever so slightly. “Look, to my knowledge no one has ever just… given a Tranquil lyrium. Regardless of that - risk, the high of irresponsible lyrium use isn’t worth the crash. You shouldn’t use it unless it’s necessary. Imagine…” she paused, and then pushed on, having found a possible metaphor, “Imagine eating about 10 pounds of chocolate, and then chasing it down with four carafes of coffee. That’s a mage on lyrium, Bull. They get a lot of magic done, really quickly, but afterward…”

He slumped visibly. “You’re awake for three days, and then you sleep for 48 hours straight, pissing like a racehorse the whole time. And that‘s if it don't have to see a healer… and it doesn‘t deal with the addiction and cravings you might get afterward.”

“You’re talking like you’ve done that before,” Varric quipped.

“Yeah, yeah, real funny.” Bull cleared his throat, “Not that I really want to know, but… does that happen with blood magic, too?”

“It’s worse,” Solas provided, speaking up as he rarely did, his voice carefully neutral, as always. Avexis gritted her teeth. “One of the many reasons I do not practice blood magic. You simultaneously weaken yourself as well as fuel your magic. The jitters do not compare with any other withdrawal. The lust for more is problematic, when it is your own blood‘s power you crave.”

“I imagine you piss less, though,” Bull grunted.

“The headaches are worse. Dehydration is common, in both cases, and a common side effect is anemia. For those who are prone to…”

“And elfroot only helps so much,” Avexis interrupted Solas mid-lecture with a sigh, and adjusted her hair back to partially cover her scar. “So… can we not fight the dragon today, please? At least until we know a little more about it other than ‘It‘s bigger than the Maker and it shoots lightning‘? I‘ll ask Leliana for some scouts to check it out, or something…”

“Can we at least watch it kill the giant?” Sera had come up behind them, sans nug.

“Be my guest,” Avexis shouldered her staff, and started walking back to camp. “Just don’t expect me to join you. It’s… too loud. I‘m… I‘m going to try to take a nap. My head hurts.” Cassandra frowned, and followed her. “And Sera - the local nugs aren’t interested in bacon. Try the ones further inland, with cheese. Older is better.” Sera cackled and ran off again. “Watch for bears!”

She couldn’t sleep, the roaring of the dragon - somewhere on one of the islands, now that the giant was dead, no doubt making a nice nest for itself on a bed of nug bones - competing with the roar of the ocean in her head. She twisted onto her back, swearing impotently aloud, as her frustration fueled the noise until she could think of nothing but.

“Stop cursing and get up, if you cannot rest,” Cassandra grumbled from outside.

“It’s not me, it’s that damn dragon,” Avexis hissed. “It’s close, and it’s loud enough to give me a nauseous headache. I can‘t concentrate long enough to even get through the meditations, while I‘m trying to make sure it doesn‘t notice… me. I might as well be standing between its front legs saying ‘Come and get me!’”

Cassandra pushed open the flap of the tent to confront her directly. “Fine. Then we will spar. We will physically exhaust you until you can sleep.”

Avexis hesitated, “I don’t know if that… what if it comes while I‘m distracted? It knows I‘m here, Cassandra. I don't know why it's not already here.”

“Would you rather I sing you lullabies until you drift off into the Fade to dream of unicorns and rainbows?” Cassandra snarled. “You can’t go without sleeping. We‘re here for a few more days, at least, while we confront the Blades of Hessarian about the dead scouts.”

Avexis didn’t answer.

“Good, then we do this my way. Put your armor on. We have four hours of daylight left, and I imagine the others will stay where they are for some time. If you cannot sleep, we can at least pass the time productively.” Cassandra tied back the flap and stepped backwards enough to draw her sword. “Get out here and practice casting a barrier until it holds against everything I can throw at you. Move.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merde - still means shit.
> 
> Boules de Createur - Maker's Balls.


	10. Tranquility Lost

The group that Avexis was slowly beginning to think of as her friends faced the gates at Redcliffe - another strange rift sealed behind them, off balance and, in Avexis‘ case, angry. The Inquisition scout claimed no one had been expecting them, and that there was a magister in control of the mage rebellion.

It was just one more straw in the slow buildup to her losing her patience. Her meditations had fallen to pieces after the Storm Coast, along with most of her hope that her focus was getting better. She was jerking herself awake with the first whisper from the dragon… whispers that had taken on a curious tone, even as the dragon itself had disappeared entirely into the fog surrounding its island.

It hadn't stopped for a full day after they had left the Storm Coast, and the other dragon in the Hinterlands had picked up where the Storm Coast dragon had left off.

She was tired, she was cold, she was developing some sort of rash on her feet from damp socks, she still couldn’t deflect Cassandra’s Shield Bash with a barrier, and damn it, she just wanted to go back to Haven. Where there were no dragons stalking her sleep and haunting her days and she had a chance in the Void of getting her feet to stay dry and warm.

She had made the mistake of expressing the wish aloud, and the influx of Blackwall’s and Varric’s sly teasing insinuations about someone waiting for her in Haven had her hackles up. Sera’s disgust at their insistent prodding was a welcome respite from their nearly constant hints. She had half a mind to let the woman pull some of the tricks she had been whispering to her about since they had started.

Her desire had nothing to do with anyone waiting for her - Haven was peaceful, somehow, despite the growing numbers of recruits training at obscenely early hours. During their last visit, the background sounds of sword and shields clashing together had blended into the normal sounds of the village going about its business. It was unlike anywhere else she had been in Thedas in the last months. Haven shouldn’t have felt safe, or felt anything like home, but it did.

She muttered a string of Orlesian obscenities directed solely at the situation as she marched through the hamlet that Ferelden claimed was a town, staring at the strangely dressed soldiers lining the road to the castle. They didn’t look Fereldan… how in the Maker’s Unknown Name did this Magister manage to import an entire army?

She lost herself in her thoughts of evil Tevene magisters, only to be drawn up short when she realized that the bridge to the keep itself had been destroyed entirely - just before she pitched off the edge into the waterfall that led to Lake Calenhad from the mill. “What is going on here? Why would the rebels destroy the bridge to the Keep?” She asked aloud. No one answered. “Fine,” she sighed, “We’re splitting up.” She touched her scar where it bunched up in her worry. “Coming to see the rebels might be a bizarre misunderstanding - but we still need information. Cassandra, Varric, and…” she hesitated, looking between the other two warriors, and chose the one with more experience with mages - though that experience was dubious given everyone’s insistence that Dalish wielded a bow - “Bull - you’re with me. The rest of you, please, find me some answers?” She smiled at Blackwall in apology, “And Sera, see if you can find me a new spindle? Pay money. Don‘t steal it,” she warned, fishing in her pouch to hand the woman a silver.

“Why can’t I go with you to see…”

“Because you’re scared stiff of spooky mages,” she reminded the archer in a mocking tone, “and this place is thick with ‘robes‘ like me. I don’t need you panicking before I hear the whole story. In the meantime, you have my permission to stick your nose in every corner of this place looking for ‘fun‘. Blackwall - we still need a healer for the refugees at the Crossroads - do you think you could ask around? There has to be a healer here somewhere…”

Sera pursed her lips, “Beardy’s comin’ with me. He knows how to have a good time. Unlike some people,” she glanced aside at Solas, who stood with his arms folded, in his usual silence. Silence or a lecture, that was the apostate elf in a nutshell, she supposed. Naturally, Solas didn’t rise to the bait, just observed with a vague sense of dissatisfaction. “Andraste’s Tits, could you be any more elfy?” Sera shrieked at him, and then grabbed onto Blackwall’s tunic to tug him away. “Lizards, that‘s what I need,” she muttered under her breath. “First chance, wait and see.”

Avexis turned away, rather hoping she would be around to see whatever petty revenge Sera had in store for Solas‘ constant lectures on the Elvhen, to walk briskly towards the inn and into extreme disappointment.

“Indentured servitude,” she couldn’t even react, the words stunned her so much, the numbness from the knowledge spreading through her brain like molasses on bread. “Slavery. To a magister?” The dim light of the tavern, combined with the odors of stale beer and too many people in a small space made her feel trapped and dizzy.

“What the fuck were you thinking? How‘s that going to win you friends and influence people?” Varric muttered, eyes wide.

“We had no choice,” Fiona’s weak argument irritated her, and Avexis pressed her fingernails into her marked palm in an attempt to focus on what the other woman was saying. “The Templars were advancing, they were going to kill us all. We needed allies, and Magister Alexius arrived at a crucial time.”

“When did all this happen?“ Something else wasn’t right besides the timing, and Avexis realized what it was, as her eyes swept around the room. A room filled with mages who either met her eyes - the eyes of a known loyalist supposedly chosen by a prophetess of the Chantry responsible for their subjugation - with hostility, or wouldn‘t look at her at all. “Where are the Tranquil?” She hissed at the Grand Enchanter, knowing that if any of them attacked her, Cassandra would have her back. “Are they indentured, too?” Fiona didn’t meet her eyes, and Avexis slammed her hand into the rough-hewn table. “Answer me,” she ordered, her anger overriding her normal respect for Circle leadership, her eyes making another circuit of the room, and landing on a face she recognized. “I see Clemence. Bonjour, mon ami. Comment vous allez vous*?” she called out to the man in the corner of the room.

The area around him was suspiciously clear, where everyone else in the room was elbow to elbow. The mages were avoiding him - the lone Tranquil in the room. Typical rebel bullshit.

“It is good to see you,” the man replied in a monotone voice in Common, “You‘ve changed since I saw you last.”

“Oui, I have,” Avexis answered, before dropping her voice back into a threatening timber, “And he’s coming with us, now, along with any others we might find hidden among you. The Inquisition will fucking take care of them, since you‘ve failed so spectacularly,” she snarled. “But where are the rest of us? We were hundreds strong, before Andoral’s Reach.”

“The Tranquil have been… disappearing,” the woman whispered, wringing her hands. “I cannot say… they are free to come and go…”

“Of course you can’t. And of course they aren‘t. Where would they go?!“ Avexis shifted back. “I need to talk to this magister. Now.”

Alexius didn‘t have any blood under his impeccably manicured fingernails, and he never sneered once, unlike every single Chantry propaganda sheet she had ever seen - but his deplorable plan didn’t disappoint her need for someone to blame. She had no desire to negotiate for the ‘use’ of her brothers and sisters - it turned her stomach, bargaining as if they were a commodity in a market. But before she could express her distaste, Alexius’ son fell into her and slipped her a note. Alexius excused them both, and Fiona as well - undermining her intention of pumping the once Grand Enchanter for more information once he left the room.

“Probably needs her for blood magic,” Avexis snarled at the door - but only once it was safely closed, and Clemence sent outside with directions to the nearest Inquisition camp, after extracting a promise that he would bring any Tranquil he knew of with him, in exchange for a promise that they could use the alchemist‘s formidable skills. “He’ll drain her dry trying to heal his son, whatever’s wrong with him.” Only then did she look at the slip of paper. “Of course I’m in bloody danger,” she spat as she wadded the note into her pocket and reopened the door, only to bump into Sera, who was flushed from running. “Tetons d’Andraste*, Sera,” she grabbed the other elf by her shoulders, “what…”

“Come with me,” Sera grabbed her hand. “Everything else can wait. You got to see this. Now.”

_< EotD>_

Avexis sat crosslegged in a rickety wooden shed, cradling a skull in her hands, and surrounded by a hundred more. “They’re all dead.” The tears were running down her face, and she didn‘t bother to wipe them away. So many… “For this?” She gestured to the sack of money and the accounting book in the corner. “For money? Why? Tranquil don‘t hurt anyone…”

“To make those ocky thingies that point out the glowy bits of rock, I guess, from the looks of the backroom,” Sera squatted down next to her and stretched out a single leg to balance herself effortlessly - graceful even when she wasn‘t trying. “Look, I know its shite. Pure shite. Even if the Tranquil weren‘t using them, they didn‘t deserve this.”

Avexis scowled at her odd sort-of friend, “They were using their brains more than most. I was one of them. Certainly more than the rebel mages were when they sold themselves into slavery.” Her face crumpled, “You claim to care about the little people, Sera - the Tranquil are the littlest of people. Nobody cares about them.”

“Pfft, whatever. Glad I didn’t know you - you were probably creepy, too. You‘re only sort of spooky now.” Sera’s words were soft, though her words were dismissive. “You want me to put an arrow in that magister’s face? Just say ‘what‘.”

Cassandra broke in, “I’m sorry, Avexis. I wish… I wish it were otherwise.”

Avexis looked up at Cassandra for her answers. “Aren‘t we even people anymore, to be bought and sold for the price of our skulls? If this whole rebellion was supposed to be about freeing the mages, then why did they forget the Tranquil? It was a Tranquil who discovered the cure for Tranquility. A Tranquil’s studies, a Tranquil’s death, set off the entire Mage Rebellion! It may have started in Kirkwall, but the White Spire fanned the spark into flame.” She stood, shaky on her legs. Solas stood in the doorway, shifting back and forth, resting on his staff, and looking as bothered as she had ever seen him, but she didn‘t have time or the inclination to draw him out. “Varric, Sera - get all the Tranquil out. Knock them out and stuff them in a sack if you have to. There will be no more of this,” she cradled the skull against her chest like a child. “I have to go to the Chantry, but you two feel free to blow up the entire village if you need a distraction to get them out of here. I won’t let them hurt another one.”

She left the building, still holding the skull, fleeing to the far corner of the adjoining docks, Cassandra close behind, waving the others to stay back. “Sacre Coeur d’Andraste*,” she choked out, staring up at the sky - too sunny and too blue, an affront to the horror she held in her hands. “This could have been me. If Galyan hadn‘t kept me with him - if I had gone with the others because I didn‘t have anywhere else to go…”

Cassandra took the skull away, very gently. “But he did, and it wasn’t,” she reminded her. “We’ll see them all safe, Avexis. _Without_ blowing up Redcliffe and provoking the Arl and the King of Ferelden. Perhaps we should go to the Chantry?”

Avexis stared at her blankly, willing herself not to feel. “Yes… but…” she gestured towards the piled bones in the shed in the distance. “I can’t just leave them… if I leave them, they‘ll _use_ them.”

Solas stepped forward from around the beached boat that had hidden his presence, his eyes glimmering with some unnamed emotion. “Allow me to gather up the remains, so that we can give them a pyre,” he offered. “You could have a memorial service, perhaps.”

“Yes,” Avexis sniffed. “We… we could let them return to the Maker.” She took back the skull and found her spare carded wool, and wrapped it around the bone gingerly, before stowing it in her pack. She took a deep breath. “Cassandra, I… I need you with me. Will you come to the Chantry?”

“Of course,” she answered, her face far softer than usual. “Perhaps that man Felix will have more answers, once we speak to him privately.” There was a muffled boom in the distance in the direction of the old windmill, and the warrior winced. “I think we should be quick. Sera, it seems, has taken you literally.”

The Chantry’s rift was nearly too much for them all, emotionally drained as she was, her focus scattered far into the Void. She should have brought Vivienne, Avexis realized halfway through - the older mage seemed to never tire, but she didn‘t think it was wise to bring the loyalist mage with her to address the rebels... even if she had been comfortable with asking. With Solas, Varric, and Sera busy, Bull, Blackwall and Cassandra were reduced to bashing in demonic heads - without even a shimmering barrier to keep them safe, as hers were still shattering like Satinalia baubles as soon as anyone touched them.

At least she was trying?

The only spells that seemed to come naturally anymore were lightning based. Solas’ attempts to teach her better control over spirit skills resulted in her wanting to hit him over his egg-shaped head with her staff. He couldn’t be more condescending if he tried. She wasn’t a child, even if her casting was reminiscent of one. She didn’t dare ask Vivienne for help with ice. She’d rather do without.

Avexis shook herself free of her poorly-timed daydreaming, and attempted to focus on the rift again. The mage they were fighting with was certainly flamboyant. He didn’t cast - he danced around the demons, whirling his magic like so many scarves. Avexis tamped down her jealousy of his easy skill, and connected to the rift one last time, imagining the rift knitting together.

That particular visualization might have actually helped, she realized, flushed and panting, and staring once again at her hand. It had seemed… less painful at least, when she didn’t fight it.

“Well, that was bracing!” The man smiled, and Avexis found herself oddly reassured, despite the disaster of the Tranquil’s deaths, and Cassandra’s tangible disapproval for the other mage posing before them like he owned the very Chantry they stood in.

“Another Tevinter,” the Seeker judged out loud.

“Watch out, the pretty ones are the worst,” Bull warned her.

“You told me I was pretty just yesterday, Bull,” Avexis reminded him, trying to shove her preoccupation with the Tranquil situation away so that she could carry on a discussion with the mage in front of them.

“You prove my point,” he winked - maybe. “You’re one dangerous thing, Saare-Boss.” He drug the final word out just to show off his pun. “Oh, come on, that was a good one. You could use a laugh.” Cassandra groaned before he continued, “But I ain’t saying who’s prettier.” He paused for a long moment, “Though if you two got in a fight that would be hotter than Seheron in summer.”

“We’re both pretty,” the mage declared, schooling his face into a more solemn form. “We would never fight over such a silly thing. Your Herald is a woman of… refinement.” His eyes dropped down to her vivid teal socks, folded over the tops of her sturdy boots. “Of course, I‘ve been known to be mistaken, from time to time.”

“Ugh,” Cassandra managed. Blackwall stayed silent.

Avexis was quiet for a moment as well, thinking, “I was expecting… someone else. Who are you? Did you send the message?”

“I did,” the mage, dark haired and debonair, shook himself out of his horrified preoccupation with her footwear. “I’m Dorian Pavus, most lately of Minrathous. Avexius was my mentor, a long time ago.” He bowed, with a ridiculous flourish that he somehow managed to pull off. “He‘s taken up with a Tevinter Supremacy cult - called the Venatori. I don‘t understand it, it‘s about as far removed from what I would have expected of him…”

“He did it for me, Dorian,” The man called Felix shut the side door to the Chantry. “Sorry I’m late. I thought Father would never stop fussing.”

Avexis bristled, “Is the Grand Enchanter still…”

“Father is no blood mage, whatever you might like to believe,” Felix didn’t meet her eyes. “But Fiona is a healer the likes of which I’ve never seen,” he looked up then, “Even if he was, there would be no marks left to prove it.”

“Are you sick?” Avexis began, but Dorian held up a hand.

“Is he suspicious?”

“No, why would he be?” Felix sniffed. “I just shouldn’t have played the illness card, that’s all. Fiona… covered for me, I suspect. She knows what’s wrong - and what isn‘t. I suppose her… past might have something to do with why Father was so eager to gain her assistance… but I have no idea why he‘s interested in the rest of the rebellion.”

“Yes, why?” Avexis leaned forward. “Why go to all this trouble?”

Dorian flashed a glance of approval at her, “So you’re not just a pretty face and a bastion of questionable fashion sense.” His face grew stern. “It’s a cult, I said. They’re here for you, Herald, Alexius bent time to make it to Redcliffe before you.”

“Before me?” Avexis stammered. “Why me?”

“The mark on your hand,” Dorian held out his hand and Avexis, rolling her eyes, placed it palm up in his. “Ah, yes, very pretty.” He dropped it like a hot coal, eyes narrowed, “Otherwise, you’re not exactly… interesting.”

“Alexius doesn’t think so.” Avexis sassed, “All this attention, and I didn’t bring him anything.” She shivered, wondering if the Venatori truly didn’t know about her other… talents. It’s not as if they were a secret - in Orlais, at least, she was a little too well-known, even twenty years after the fact.

“I never said my mentor had taste. And if you’re bothered about the manners, you could always send him a fruit basket. Everyone loves those.” Dorian’s mouth quirked up slightly. “I want to join you, help you stop the Venatori. Say yes?”

“And abandon a moustache like that in the middle of rustic Ferelden? Of course.” Avexis shook his hand, and turned to go, leaving the mage a little stunned at her easy acceptance of him.

“You trust him?” Blackwall challenged her on their way out, under his breath.

Avexis slumped, before confessing, as quietly as she could manage, “You know who I don’t trust, Blackwall? Myself. I don’t trust myself. Most of the people who have joined up have clear backgrounds to trace - and Leliana is brutally thorough. She has more questions about my background than any of the people we work with.” Avexis glanced back at Dorian - hooded in a meager attempt at a disguise while they smuggled him out of the town, and muttering about how the hood was leaving his hair in disarray. “We even have a dragon cultist working for the Inquisition - I don’t see why we shouldn’t include a disenchanted ‘Vint with enough common sense to realize that his country is fucked up. If there are questions raised, Sister Nightingale will find the answers. That‘s what she does. I’m more concerned with the disappearance and murder of Tranquil mages than the backstory of Dorian Pavus.”

Blackwall hummed in reply, but said nothing aloud, merely sticking close to her side.

In fact, by the time they reached the Inquisition camp on the way out of the Hinterlands, she was feeling rather… surrounded.

 

_< EotD>_

 

“Everything is shit, and I need you!” Avexis slammed through the flap of Cullen’s tent back in Haven like the wind that followed her passage, ruffling the papers crowding his desk and tossing a few of them to the canvas ground.

The three days since finding the Tranquils’ remains had not tempered her worry - quite the contrary.

The crowd of officers surrounding Cullen’s desk stepped back from her body - eyes wide as they watched sparks leap from her hair and arc across her fingers, the Templars among them slowly reaching towards their weapons.

“Stand down!” Cullen ordered, his eyes focused on her, but his orders directed towards his men.

They had only found three other Tranquil in Haven. Three, out of the hundreds missing. The accounting book held the names of a hundred plus heretofore unaccounted for since before Andoral‘s Reach. She had recognized a few of the names already - the pages of the book were beginning to be spotted with tears when she had finally put the book away, knowing that if she didn‘t stop, she would destroy the best evidence she had. Whoever was responsible had been thorough in their records - she hoped. Otherwise, they would likely never know what happened to all of them, unless they found a necromancer good enough to try to question each skull individually.

If you could even do that with Tranquil… necromancy wasn’t her area of expertise.

“I need to speak to you,” she repeated, her eyes on Cullen, not his Templars. “Now.”

Cullen slowly rose, “Of course, Herald. May I finish here? It will only be a moment…”

“No, you may not,” she stamped her foot like a child, only then noticing the many witnesses. Avexis flushed, eying the Templars with their hands on their blades with alarm. “Oh, Sweet Maker, forgive me for a fool, I’ve interrupted a meeting… I‘m sorry. I‘ll come back.”

“No, no,” Rylen smirked at Cullen openly, and a few of the other officers hid amused smiles, even while a couple of the Templars exchanged worried looks. “Not at all, Herald. You, after all, are the higher authority - all amongst us answer to Andraste, right, men? We’ll just find the Commander after you don’t ‘need’ him any more.”

Cullen’s neck turned red, “Yes, thank you, Rylen. Herald, if you’d care to sit…” he frowned, finally noticing the sparks threaded through her hair. “Or… perhaps we could walk. Out into the forest, perhaps. Where no one will be… yes, well, Rylen… Rylen can take over from here.”

“That would be excellent,” Avexis relaxed slightly, as he followed her, though her hair did not, lifting higher so that it obscured her ears in the dry winter air, floating like an out of season dandelion in the growing out section of her undercut. “I’m sorry for interrupting, I just… I have an emergency.”

“What sort of emergency?”

“The Tranquil are being harvested,” they reached the edge of the forest and Avexis narrowed her eyes and let a stream of lighting descend on a nearby tree, splitting it in half. She panted briefly before continuing, pushing the words out like they hurt her to say. “For their skulls, Commander.”

“Cullen,” he corrected, a thin furrow between his eyes. “You have proof?”

“Yes,” she took a sobbing breath. “I have the accounting book, and the money… and their heads.” She buried her face in her hands. “They were being killed, and sold, and made into… into…”

“Those… things you found in the Hinterlands and the Storm Coast,” Cullen blanched, putting two and two together. “Those were Tranquil? May the Maker preserve their souls,” he whispered, face tight.

Avexis grabbed his hand. “You’ve got to help me figure out who is responsible. The shed was locked up tighter than un cul du nug before Sera picked the locks… Why do Fereldans make their locks so strong, anyway? What are you hiding?”

“Uncle what?” Cullen was too focused on the warmth of her hand, and the static shock she had just given him, to try to parse out her mixed up words or answer her nonsensical questions.

“Sorry, a nug’s asshole,” Avexis flushed. “It sounds more vulgar in Common. But Sera found them, and showed me. One of the mages is killing them - all of them! Or it’s that magister - Alexius…” her words trailed off. “Is it wrong I hope it’s him? I hate to think anyone who used to be a Circle mage would… but they would, wouldn‘t they?” Her face begged him to contradict her. “We - The Tranquil aren’t even people. I heard it so many times…” her words trailed off into a near whisper. “Galyan said they were wrong,” she muttered, as if reminding herself.

“What magister?” Cullen asked, the furrow growing, as he clung to one of the few words that made sense. Her hand shouldn’t be so distracting. “I think I’m missing part of this story. If the rebel mages are harboring Tevinter magisters, if they‘ve somehow ousted the Arl from his own demesne… damn it, they‘ve outplayed us, haven‘t they? We can never manage to storm Redcliffe Castle…” his charts of the castle’s layout played out in front of his eyes - cliffs on three sides leading straight down to Lake Calenhad, and only one way in…

“Malédictionnez-moi pour un horrible souvenir*,” Avexis muttered, interrupting his thoughts. “We’re going to go over it at the war meeting. I forgot that not everyone knows. My group discussed it for the entire trip back, not that we drew any sort of conclusions. But Commander, you need to know…”

“Cullen,” he corrected automatically.

“Cullen, the mages have sold themselves into slavery. Or Fiona did it for them. C’est conneries!*”

“And that’s…”

“Bullshit,” Avexis summed up, a tone he recognized from Cassandra‘s increasingly frequent curses echoing in her voice. “Grand Enchanter Fiona made a deal with a magister - Magister Alexius - all of the rebel mages are sworn to his service. I’m so…” she stretched her hand out and shocked another tree. A fennec darted off into the distance.

“That was rather close,” Cullen observed with a credible semblance of professional detachment, and cleared his throat. “Herald, I would be happy to have my men look into this for you. Though perhaps Leliana would be a wiser choice, given her people’s skills.”

Avexis frowned, “Non, not Leliana. Leliana was a bard, Commander. I can’t trust her. Not with this. I need you,” she stressed, “Someone familiar with the Circle, who understands Tranquil, and the way their minds work. I brought home an old friend - Clemence, an alchemist, he’s already with Adan - he might know who our - his,” she corrected swiftly, “colleagues have spoken to before they... died. He mentioned that Alexius didn‘t like to be reminded of what mages can become… oh, I hope it‘s him. Maker, let it be him, and not… I‘ll kill him myself, if its him,” she vowed softly and dangerously.

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “All right, I’ll see what I can find out,” he promised gently. “There’s a few Tranquil I can look for as well - ones that I knew in Kirkwall. Have the book delivered to my desk. In the meantime, you should be careful.” He swallowed, “I would hate for harm to come to you because of your past.”

Avexis reached up and touched the scar on her forehead. “Oh. Yes. I see what you mean.” Her shoulders relaxed. “Thank you, Cullen. I can never repay you. I know how busy you are - that you would look into this means a great deal.”

Cullen tilted a smile at her. “That’s a fine start.”

“What is?”

“Remembering my first name,” he squeezed her hand, and Avexis smiled, reluctantly. He dropped her hand, leaving it cold. She closed it slowly into a fist. “Come on, we’re probably already late for the war meeting. Josephine is a stickler for punctuality, and I want to hear the rest of the story. It sounds like something you‘re only going to want to tell once.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un cul du nug - a nug's asshole
> 
> Malédictionnez-moi pour un horrible souvenir - 'Curse me for having a horrible memory.'
> 
> C'est conneries - It's bullshit


	11. Confidants, Complications and Fuzzy Woolen Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a trigger warning for dubious consent/non-consent. It's only a discussion, and not explicit, but I don't want anyone to be surprised.
> 
> Updating tags accordingly.

“Such a quaint place you have here,” Dorian shivered by the large fire in front of the Chantry - evidentally not large enough to keep him warm. “Positively bustling with rustic Fereldan charm.” He eyed the spit, where a ram was slowly being roasted by a dwarven hunter, and the two giggling Chantry sisters discussing the Iron Bull’s many talents.

Avexis nodded in agreement, “It’s a frostbitten, frigid ice-box of an excuse for a village. But… it‘s not all bad.” They were both silent as they watched one of the remaining original villagers make their way back to the tavern with a box full of alcohol, before Avexis continued. “I can’t believe people actually lived here before the Inquisition moved in, much less for ages, largely undetected. Even long enough to build the Temple of Sacred Ashes seems like too long.”

“I was wondering about that,” Dorian coughed, “The Chantry doesn’t look… Fereldan. More like early Tevene Chantry, by the style? Are Her Ashes still…” he nodded at the Chantry’s doors pointedly.

“Uh, no,” Avexis frowned, “They were in the Temple. Hadn’t you heard it had exploded? A hundred other people‘s ashes are all mixed in with Andraste‘s, now.” Her voice was full of regret.

“Of course I knew. And I’ve already taken a hike up the mountain to see the crater and the Breach in person. I merely assumed that the Chantry was dated from a similar time period, and that the villagers kept their chief relic close at hand, perhaps even on display, after its rediscovery. My mistake…” Dorian was silent for a long moment before he huffed, “I suppose the ignorant rabble blamed the convenient mage. The Southern Chantry is so predictable.”

Avexis bristled, “They blamed the once-Tranquil mage found at the heart of the explosion - the only survivor. That’s more than reasonable.”

“Circumstantial evidence,” argued Dorian, a spark in his eye that suggested the mage loved to debate, “based on rumor and hearsay. Much like your reputation as the Herald of Andraste. And your supposed relationship with the Commander, which I‘ve heard a little too much about since my recent arrival. Are you?”

“Am I involved with the Commander?” Avexis asked, confused.

“No, the Herald of Andraste,” Dorian asked, amused. “A little sensitive about that topic, are we? Why?”

“It’s… complicated.”

“I love complicated,” Dorian’s face lit up, and he shivered, wrapping his arms around his chest. “Tell me everything. I’m somewhat reliable.” Avexis looked dubious. “Fine, I’m an unrepentant gossip - who has no one to gossip with. That makes me reliable, doesn’t it? But he’s delicious looking. If he‘s not taken, I want to know.”

“Are we talking about Cul - the Commander or whether I’m the Herald or not?”

“Oh, pick a subject. Either one suits me fine.”

“I don’t know if I was sent by Andraste. As for the Commander, he’s… very attractive, true,” Avexis admitted reluctantly. “I don’t believe he’s… seeing anyone?”

“Why the hesitation?”

“Templars and mages don’t… mix, here. Usually,” she hedged. "I haven't asked about his... availability."

“How dull is that?” Dorian scoffed. “Where’s the fun unless it’s forbidden?” Avexis flushed involuntarily. “Oh, you naughty girl. You’ve diddled a Templar, haven’t you? Something we have in common!” He nudged her boot with his foot. “It was never going to be fashion sense. Why socks, if you have to have a splash of color?”

“I like socks. They’re warm. And… yes,” she admitted, unwilling to lie about the topic, and feeling a touch of curiosity about the forbidden country to the North, attempted to change the subject. “You have Templars in Tevinter?”

“Not like yours… they don’t block magic, or whatever yours claim to do. But that doesn’t matter now.” Dorian glanced around them at the Chantry sisters pretending not to be eavesdropping. “Come on, which cabin is yours? We’ll sit and gossip and… surely you have something to drink? Even tea would be an improvement over that piss they call ale here… what I wouldn‘t give for an Imperial Stout…”

“Altus Pavus…”

“Call me Dorian.” Avexis cornered, led the way back into her cabin, trying not to draw attention to herself and her companion - a pointless exercise given that the mage chattered the entire way. “There,” Dorian sighed with contentment, and held out his fingers to her fire, settling back in the rough chair she offered him. “Much better, my dear. Now, confess. Was it love? Or something more primal?”

Avexis looked at him with something approaching disgust. “Was this all a ploy to get to closer to my fireplace? Varric has a fire if you‘re cold and don’t want to be ostracized, I‘m sure he‘d…”

“Of course it was,” Dorian waved his hand airily. “I haven’t been warm since I left Nevarra. Your Ambassador assigned me a _tent._ That said, my desire to be warm doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to know you better. You seem, despite everything I'd heard, to have a modicum of common sense, unlike most of your Southern ilk. I’d just rather become acquainted in a cozy place, not surrounded by unwashed masses or disapproving Chantry sisters, that’s all. And as amiable as your dwarf friend is, I‘m sure he would love using the intricate details of the Herald‘s love life to fuel his next series. He is that Tethras, isn‘t he?”

“I suppose he is. I’ve only just read the Tale of the Champion. I don’t read Common that well, though Cassandra loves Varric's... earlier work. You’re going to be disappointed,” Avexis sighed, and pulled the kettle, just starting to whistle from the fireplace, pouring it over the tea leaves suspended over the teapot on the nearby table. “I haven’t had anything approaching a love life in years.”

“A beautiful girl like you? Impossible, you‘ve had scores of men drooling after you,” Dorian scoffed. “And that only just since we’ve met. Tell me everything.”

“If you have Templars in the North,” Avexis began slowly, “Do you have Tranquil?”

“Vashante Kaffas.” His eyes flicked to her forehead. "That scar..."

“I don’t know what that means. It‘s not Common, is it?”

“Tevene, and I don’t think you want to know, actually.” Dorian’s eyes sparkled wickedly, “It’s rather nasty.”

“Oh, so it’s like ‘Merde dans ma bouche*’?” Avexis handed him a teacup, and Dorian burst into laughter. "I'd never translate that out loud."

“So much for the sacred purity of Andraste’s Herald,” he sipped slowly. “I’m feeling better and better about coming here.”

<EotD>

 

Cullen watched the door of Avexis’ cabin with a frown, a headache, and a sinking feeling in his stomach. Rylen had to nudge him to get his attention. “What?” He snapped at last.

“I’ve asked you the same question twice,” his Captain said, mouth twitching with humor. “Commander, you could just go knock if you‘re concerned.”

“I wouldn’t want to… interrupt them,” Cullen scowled deeper. “And I am not concerned. At all.”

“I am. She’s in there with a damn ‘Vint magister,” Rylen cleared his throat. “Aren’t you worried about blood magic?”

“Not in the least. Avexis has more sense than that, after everything she‘s been through. She knows she can scream for me and I‘ll come running,” Cullen grumbled, trying to forget that she hadn‘t been in control the last time she had been… influenced by a blood mage. “They’re both adults. This isn‘t the Circle, Rylen. They can do whatever they damn well please. We‘re not their jailers any longer. Me, least of all. I don‘t have the time, or the energy, or the vocation.”

Rylen lifted his eyebrows, “Commander, have you met the ’Vint yet?”

“No.” Cullen averted his eyes to Rylen’s latest report, only to watch the letters swim around dizzily. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to focus his eyes. “I haven’t felt the need to become acquainted.”

His friend snorted, “The man’s not interested in women. You only have to talk to him once to realize. He hit on me in the second sentence and then asked if I thought my helmet would fit,” Rylen flushed. “He’s… friendly, for a ‘Vint. Doubt he‘s ever even considered the forbidden arts.”

Cullen blinked, “Really?” His shadowed eyes met Rylen’s, suspicious. “Then why are you bringing up blood magic?”

“I was offering it up as an excuse for you to pop your head in and see what they were up to,” the Captain grinned. “You haven’t taken your eyes off the Herald since she got up this morning.”

“I have so,” Cullen paled and cleared his throat, “I had several meetings elsewhere, while she was in with Adan, introducing him to Clemence, and then I trained recruits all morning while she chatted with Master Dennet about her horse's nervous behavior, and talked to Harritt about warmer armor for the winter months - I met with Threnn while she was speaking to Solas and Josephine…”

“You’re sticking rather close, aren’t you? Didn’t she come out to meet you last night?”

“I hadn’t realized our conversations were common knowledge.“ Cullen’s eyes shifted back to her door.

“Stood up, huh?” Rylen clapped him on the back. “That’s rough.”

“It’s not a standing… appointment,” hissed Cullen. “She was probably sleeping. She’s always tired, and Maker knows, I don’t begrudge her any amount of rest she can eke out. Have you seen the circles under her eyes? She’s constantly walking around looking like someone has punched her.” His face grew even more grim. “Maybe they have. It would be just like her not to say if someone‘s… and she has no healing abilities whatsoever.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” his captain started, grinning wider. “Commander, she fights in the field. Surely a few bruises are to be…”

“You’d think Andraste would at least let her Herald rest… and another thing,” Cullen hissed, getting into the spirit of the thing, “People are constantly waking her before she’s ready to wake up. No meeting or guest is important enough to disturb her. Josie is running her ragged when she‘s in Haven. I intend to have words with her about it.”

“Right,” Rylen grinned. “Does she know?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cullen snorted, and turned his back to the cabin. Perhaps if it was out of sight…

“Just saying, the Circles are gone, man, and the Chantry is in shambles. It’s not like you’re breaking any rules or anything,” Rylen suggested slyly. “Even if you hadn’t left the Order - which you have…”

“I’m quite aware of my current status, Rylen,” Cullen growled. “There’s a lot of work to do. Best you start some of it.” He turned away again, so that he could see the cabin’s door out of his peripheral vision.

“At your order, Commander,” smirked Rylen, and saluted. “But don’t wait too long. There’s a few lads who wouldn’t mind getting a little closer to the Herald, even if the ‘Vint isn‘t one of them,” he added as he strolled towards the gate and his duty.

_< EotD>_ 

　

Dorian sat back, his eyes glazed. “You mean Andraste didn’t just carry you out of the Fade, draped dramatically across her arms, but apparently performed the Cure for Tranquility upon you while you were there? How would that work, exactly?”

“I don’t remember any of it,” Avexis protested, for what seemed the millionth time. “I was unconscious… I don't know that it was Andraste's Spirit! I only know I was Tranquil, and then I wasn't anymore.”

“ _And_ you expect me to believe that you had an affair with a Templar - you, a Southern _loyalist_ mage - a long term thing, not just a fling…”

“I _was_ there. I remember. All too clearly.” Avexis shifted her stocking feet closer to the fire. “I’m… I’m sure Pierre is dead. He wasn’t at the Conclave, but…” She stared into the fire, suddenly worried and tense.

Dorian frowned at her reaction, his face clearing with sudden comprehension, “You were still involved when they performed…” Dorian eyes shifted to her forehead and didn‘t finish.

Avexis looked away. “I said it was complicated.”

“The bastard,” Dorian’s nostrils flared.

“It wasn’t like…”

“The hell it wasn’t! He’d better be dead,” Dorian shifted forward again, “and he’d better hope that he never meets me, if he isn’t…”

“We’d been together for…”

“As if that matters,” Dorian narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t you understand the difference? Tranquil-”

“Have free will.”

“Have no emotions. They can’t _want_ anything, or anyone. If that isn’t-”

“We can still choose.”

“But did you? Did he even give you an opportunity?”

Avexis frowned, and didn’t answer.

“Oh, my dear,” Dorian deflated, and nudged her foot. “I’m… sorry for dragging it up. We all have memories that we‘d rather forget. If only the Maker was so kind.”

“It was years ago,” Avexis sighed, “Can we drop it now? Nobody really knows the details, even Cassandra, and I’d rather it stay that way. Most of the time it feels like it happened to someone else.”

“That’s probably best.” Dorian was silent for a moment before asking, “Does the Commander know?”

Avexis stared at him in horror. “No. No, and he never will.” She paused, “Besides, Bruce spies on us at night while we‘re talking, and he’d tell everyone if I brought it up.”

“Who’s Bruce? Since when do you meet up with the Commander? At night?! Avexis…” Dorian shook his head, “You’re certainly not what I was expecting from Andraste‘s Herald. I expected some meek mage with a heroic aura shining out of her ass, and a martyr complex a mile wide.”

With that, she laughed, the darker memories their discussion had brought up fading slightly with the change of subject. “And you’re the farthest thing from an evil Tevinter that I can imagine, despite the moustache straight out of a melodrama. No wonder you left.”

“I enjoy the allure of pariah-hood, it’s true.” 

　

_< EotD>_

 

Cullen approached the rock with dragging feet that night. He hated to admit it, but… he had expected to see her the night before. If she didn’t come tonight…

He should be hoping her insomnia was better, he scolded himself, not making silly wishes that she would come keep him company.

As he turned the corner towards the rock, however, he saw the slender silhouette of a woman reflected against the moon. Her hair was down again - more grown out than the last time - and a few sparks jumped from strand to strand, like a halo of stars around her head.  He smiled, his mood improving against his will. She looked magical - in the best way, not the worst.

He stomped down on his emotions. As he had told Rylen, there was a lot of work to do. There wasn’t time for… “This is ridiculous,” he whispered, his voice sounding unconvinced even to his own ears. “Damn you, Rylen.”

He had forgotten the elven enhanced sense of hearing. Her head snapped up, and her eyes glowed greenish blue in the darkness. He swallowed, and began climbing the rock, Rylen’s words fluttering around in his gut like so many butterflies. _How many were interested_?

“I’m so glad you came,” her smile lit up the moon itself, and Cullen closed his eyes lest it try to blind him. The real question wasn’t how many people were interested, it was that all of them weren’t tripping over each other trying to get to her. Who was he, in comparison to some of them? A hairy chevalier was just the beginning. Solas watched her, as well, a cautious approval in his eyes - one that she didn‘t seem to notice at all. But that made a great deal of sense, now that he thought about it. Both elves, both mages, both with unusual talents that tended to isolate them from their colleagues…

In time, he was sure, she would notice the other mage’s regard.  He would... he would be content with what she could give him.  Friendship. No more.

“You didn’t come, last night,” he ventured, feeling safer now that he had tried to convince himself that anything more was impossible. He settled down on the rock, looping his arms around his knees.

“Don’t try to tell me I was missed,” Avexis teased. “Taking over your personal retreat and prattling on to you about wool and knitting like you cared.”

Cullen met her eyes squarely. “You were missed.” She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Not that you have to come, when you’re in Haven, or anything. I imagine you were sleeping, or…” he flushed, picturing what he had assumed had been going on before Rylen had told him about the magister‘s preferences, “It’s really none of my business,” he finished gruffly.

“I was sleeping,” Avexis volunteered easily. “I had the most wonderful dream, actually. A pleasant change after all the… well, you don‘t want to hear about what I see in the Fade.” She smiled shyly, “I… I was upset when I woke and realized I missed my chance to see you.” She fiddled with the yarn and needles at her side. “I look forward to our talks. And I’m just about ready to learn to set the heels. Knitting goes faster than the spinning.” Her voice lowered, as if she was discussing something far more forbidden. “If you’re still willing to teach me?” Her eyes rose to meet his, glancing up through the eyelashes.

Cullen nodded once, briefly. “I’d be honored.”

Avexis laughed at his formality, and he smiled in reaction. Her laugh was rough and sultry, in an attempt to keep the noise down in the ever growing camp of sleeping recruits. Perhaps, after all, she was a demon? A desire demon who seduced with fuzzy wool and knitting needles? He snorted away the bizarre thought.

Apparently they both needed to sleep more, if that was the direction his thoughts were taking.

“The honor is mine, oh esteemed knitting Commander,” she prodded him with a single needle. “Let’s start. The night is waning.” She summoned a wisp to light his work, and then flashed him another smile, as lovely and as deadly as the lightning she had been throwing the day before. “Dawn will come all too soon.”

Cullen could only agree, as he took the needles to demonstrate. She shifted towards him, so she could see better, and her head came close to his, as she leaned in. He breathed in, smelling ozone, and gained a slight static shock where her shoulder touched his metal breastplate. He cursed as it grounded, dropping several stitches.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Avexis soothed, and grabbed the work back, “happens to me all the time.” Concentrating, she looped the dropped stitches and handed it back to him. “They are going to be the worst socks in the world, full of holes.”

“Nonsense,” Cullen took the additional needle and began again, “I don‘t see a single dropped stitch.” A raven landed just above them and cawed gently. “I think we’re being spied on,” he whispered.

Avexis glanced up at the bird, and sighed. “Leliana. Are you needed or is it just… watching?”

“Watching. It would peck me until I took the note if I were being summoned. Baron Plucky is a vicious thing. At least the birds don’t talk?”

“Not that there is anything for them to speak of,” Avexis shrugged. “If Leliana wants them to watch you teaching me to knit, let her waste her time.” She tilted her head at the same time as Cullen and met his eyes, eyebrows drawn in. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Cullen looked down at the knitting again, willing his heart to slow. She had been close enough to - if he hadn’t promised Cassandra he wouldn’t do anything of the sort. “When you do leave for the Fallow Mire?”

“Tomorrow afternoon, assuming that the right supplies come in the morning. But the scouts say they‘re on schedule,” Avexis fidgeted as she watched his fingers. “We can’t waste any more time, otherwise. That Avvar warrior could lose his patience and kill your men - he doesn’t sound like the logical sort, insisting on fighting me.  I'm more than annoyed about it - there are more important things to do than fight some random Thane's son.  But it's our people, so..." she shrugged, "They'd do the same for me, I hope. The weather is supposed to be even wetter than the Storm Coast. Have you been there?”

“No,” Cullen said softly. “My family lived in Honnleath. A little village of no consequence, in the foothills of the Frostbacks, on the edge of the Hinterlands. It - fell - during the Blight. I had left home nearly seven years prior, and hadn‘t been back to Ferelden since I left for Kirkwall.” He smiled a little, “You’ve seen more of Ferelden than I have. I took ship from Amaranthine when I left Kinloch. When I came back I came in at the same port.”

“Where is your family now?”

“South Reach. There hasn‘t been time to visit.” He broke the last word off abruptly. “There, give it a try.” He handed the needles and work back to her, managing to keep his eyes on her fingers. It was easier that way.

“Don’t you miss them?”

“I was only thirteen when I left.” Cullen watched her hands, fumbling to make the stitches around the extra needle. “Of course I did.  But I wasn't alone.”

“Still so young,” Avexis’ fingers slipped. “Merde. This is tricky. But I was younger. Hard to remember what came before the Circle. I don‘t really like to try - such things are better forgotten.” She tried to hand the sock back, “Show me again?”

“No, try again, you‘ll learn faster by doing than watching,” Cullen urged. “You’ll get it.” The bird behind them flew away, back towards the Chantry. “I suppose we weren’t interesting enough for him?” For a moment he wished there was something going on for the bird to watch.

Avexis blinked slowly at him, and again he realized her eyes glowed green and reflective in the dim light.  Would he ever grow accustomed to that? “Funny, I’m very entertained,” she smiled. “You’re good company, Cullen.”

“As are you.” Cullen turned back to the slowly developing sock in her hand, resisting the temptation to say more, and unraveling her mistakes. “Here, I’ll show you once more. Pay attention this time. If the needles were your enemy, you‘d be dead.”

“Yes, Ser,” she laughed, and mock saluted, while smirking, “You might say… I’m all ears? Is that the phrase?”

Cullen laughed, but added, sternly, “Now you’re just being racist. None of that allowed in the Inquisition, Herald.”

“I’ll try to remember, Commander, Ser.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merde still means shit.
> 
> Vashante Kaffas means 'shit in my mouth' in Tevene. So does 'Merde dans ma bouche'. Ah, cultural exchanges. ;)
> 
> I haven't even gotten to the really great Orlesian curses yet.


	12. Dancing with Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite the morbid chapter title, this is my favorite chapter so far.
> 
> If you've read my other stuff, you'll know I occasionally use music for inspiration. In this case, it was Dean Martin's 'Sway'.
> 
> "Like a flower bending in the breeze  
> Bend with me, sway with ease  
> When we dance you have a way with me  
> Stay with me, sway with me.  
> Other dancers may be on the floor  
> Dear, but my eyes will see only you  
> Only you have the magic technique  
> When we sway I go weak."
> 
> This will be the last chapter for ten days, as I'm going on vacation. But after this, we start going AU. :D I'm pretty excited.

“I’m bored,” Dorian huddled, his bedroll wrapped around his shoulders where he sat by the campfire, his moustache drooping pathetically in the damp air of the Fallow Mire. “I order you to amuse me before I stagnate in this horrible swamp.”

“We are not here to amuse you, mage,” rumbled Blackwall critically.

“Somebody has to,” Dorian countered. “I am a disagreeable person when I lack stimulation.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” Avexis protested. “Conjure up a lightning storm and fry us all in our beds, as wet as we are?” The rain outside their little cavern drizzled miserably down, and the whole place stunk like rotting fish. Sera shuddered, even under the extra blanket she had insisted on bringing along - the only one of them that was familiar with the misery that was the Fallow Mire.

A wicked, devious look crossed Dorian’s face, and then he shot a single bolt of magic into the swamp closest to them. A corpse - mostly skeleton, thankfully, with no horrid bits of flesh hanging off it - wobbled it’s way towards them, its feet stabilizing once on more solid land. “Avexis, meet your dance partner.” He twirled his moustache, only to have it frazzle in the humidity. “Let’s call him Bruce. That‘s a good Fereldan sort of name, isn‘t it?”

Avexis pinned him with a look, and huddled further into her bedroll. “I should have never told you about Bruce.”

“Bruce?” Sera thought for a moment, “Scout Bruce? He’s the blabbermouth, ain’t he?”

“Yes, he is,” Avexis didn’t look away from Dorian. “He shares certain traits with other men of my acquaintance.”

“Curtsey to your dance partner, Avexis,” Dorian urged her saucily. “Varric has his notebook… I could make up a few stories…”

“I refuse to give into blackmail. Besides, I don’t know how to dance,” she stared back down into the fire, brooding and wishing that she dared take out her knitting, but knowing it would shrink into felt with the wet.

There had been two full size spinning wheels in one of the abandoned cabins - and she had already had the requisition officer take possession of them, once they confirmed that every family member was dead in the plague. She couldn’t use anything like that out here, but there was probably just enough room in her cabin in Haven… there had to be someone in the Inquisition that would be able to teach her to use the full-size machine.

“Good! I won’t have to overcome your bad habits,” Dorian pouted, “Please, gorgeous girl. I’m tired, and wet, and smelly, and haven’t had a decent wine in days. I need this.”

“I’ll dance with ya,” mumbled Bull from his corner.

“I respectfully decline,” Dorian flushed. Sera and Avexis snorted in tandem. “None of that sass, young ladies!” The mage ordered. “We’ll start with a waltz. Vivienne, I saw you pack your lute. Don‘t tell me you don‘t know how to play.” The woman raised an eyebrow at him, and then, with a sigh, pulled the fat instrument out of the enormous chest she had insisted upon bringing, unwrapped the oil cloth she had wrapped it in, and positioned herself at the entrance of her tent. “That’s the spirit! We need some cheerfulness in all this misery. How anyone can say Ferelden is habitable, I will never understand. If it‘s not freezing, it‘s raining. If it‘s not raining, it‘s snowing. And if it‘s not snowing, it‘s sleeting, thunder and lightning are striking constantly, and there‘s a plague running amok.”

“What’s not to love?“ Avexis snarked before adding, “Dorian, I don’t like bones. They give me the creeps.”

Dorian blinked at her. “Surely you jest. Bones are fascinating! They tell the best stories,” He tilted his head and the corpse bowed deeply. “You’re offending your partner, my dear.” He smiled and then, bribed her, “If you humor me, I’ll personally see to the Tranquil skulls you found in Haven. It‘s a simple matter to ask a spirit‘s assistance. One of them must know something, even if the souls of the deceased have passed on.”

Avexis tossed her bedroll onto the log she had been sitting on. “Fine. I’ll dance with Mr. Bones.”

“Bruce,” corrected Dorian with a smug, satisfied smirk. “Curtsey… I’ve seen you do that for Vivienne, so I know you know how - though Maker knows what she ever did to earn it…” he added in a quick aside.

“Don’t be snide,” the Iron Lady sniffed. “It’s unbecoming a man of your station.” She strummed a note, and then adjusted the tuning slightly.

Avexis sunk down, and together her and the corpse rose. “Now what?” The skeleton placed his bony hand on her hip, a little too low. Solas coughed critically, as the hand adjusted slightly upwards.

“Oops,” Dorian sniggered. “Bruce is getting handsy.”

Avexis glared at him. “Just get on with it, mage. No bony fingers going where they ought not, or I‘ll break them off.”

“Fine, fine!” Dorian flared his hands. “Follow his - my - lead.”

“I could just dance with you,” Avexis suggested as she was guided gently by the too-light companion holding her hand and waist to the slow tune Vivienne was coaxing from her instrument.

Dorian made a face, “Don’t take all the fun out of this.”

Sera grabbed her little sketchbook and started scribbling madly, cackling the whole time. “Wait ‘til I show Hot Templar. He‘ll really hate Bruce then, poor bastard.” She snickered. “Saddle him with all the worst assignments, won’t he?”

Avexis flushed, “I call him Hot Templar once, and now all of you…”

“Eh, he deserves it for talkin’. Can’t keep himself to himself, that one. I‘d do worse than call him names, if you let me. Pies, at the least.” Sera sighed, “Could use a pie. Why’d we never have pies at Haven, anyway?”

Dorian spun his hands, and the skeleton shifted so that they were angling their direction, rotating in a clockwise direction. “One, two, three, one, two, three,” he recited clearly. “That’s right, now a spin,” the skeleton raised his hand, and Avexis twirled under it, off tempo, and too rushed. “No,” Dorian pouted. “Relax, and trust your partner.”

“My partner is part devious necromancer and part corpse,” Avexis talked back, but found a semblance of rhythm again. “Which part should I trust?”

“My part, of course. I won’t let the creepy thing hurt you,” cooed Dorian. “Lets try the turn again.”

Casssandra sat down and grabbed a bowl to fill from the pot over the fire. “Avexis, you look…”

“C'est folie*, crazy, insane, I know!” She babbled. “Cassandra… we should be fighting our way into the hold…”

“You look lovely, and you need to rest sometime,” Cassandra sat back with a smile. “It’s nice to see you enjoying yourself in camp, instead of stressing over what you cannot control. You need more hobbies. You can‘t always knit or spin. Especially in this damp.”

“Exactly my argument,” Dorian sniffed, his eyes narrowed in concentration. “And this has the benefit of keeping some of the rest of us entertained. Your woolly obsession benefits only yourself.”

“I could dance with you, Cassandra,” Avexis nearly begged.

“No,” Cassandra lost her smile. Avexis allowed herself to follow the bony curve of the deceased’s hand, keeping time far better. “Well done,” the Seeker complimented a moment later. “You have a gift for this.”

Avexis swallowed and concentrated, feeling vaguely encouraged. Dorian glanced at Bull, and flushing, let his eyebrows draw together, and twisted his hands apart. The skeleton immediately made a flourish and Avexis could only follow. With a side pass of the necromancer’s hand, two more emerged from the deep and came to join the first, and in a minute, Avexis was being passed to the second, and then the third, spinning and twirling until the tail of her coat was flying out behind her, bright red with a purple lining against their tannin-stained bones.

“Brava!” Vivienne called out from her tent, her fingers clever on the instrument as she elaborated on the simple tune. “Are you sure you’ve never done this, my dear?”

Avexis stumbled immediately, “Don’t talk to me, trying to… concentrate on what the bones are telling me.”

Dorian smirked, “Now who’s creepy?” Avexis glared at him over her current partner’s shoulder. “You have the makings of a necromancer. I thought so before, when I heard you could talk to animals. A rare gift, and one that would translate well into dealing with the inanimate. You‘re used to listening already.”

“Nonsense, the Herald will follow my lead, and study the Knight-Enchanter arts,” Vivienne contradicted. “It’s the logical choice for a Herald faithful to the Chantry and the Circle. She‘ll be a credit to us all.”

“This would be better with a pretty dress,” rumbled Bull, as if he was unaware of the tension between the Enchanter and the Altus. “Saare-Boss, do you have a pretty dress?”

“I’m not a courtier, Bull, I‘m a mage. I haven‘t had a real dress since I met the Divine when I was ten,” Avexis panted. “I had a flower wreath, then, too. I’d never felt so pretty… and haven’t since. Dorian…” a skeleton dipped her and she was left in its bony grasp, completely at its mercy. “Merde,” she laughed at last, as another pulled her up by her left hand and around into his own arms, replacing the constant spinning with the simple steps again. Avexis relaxed. “This is sort of… fun, isn’t it?” The skeleton slid her sideways, holding her waist from behind, and supporting her right hand in the air before twirling her around.

“Dancing is a blast,” Sera grinned. “Can I have a go?”

“You’ll just break them,” Dorian criticized. “You dance like a ram having a seizure. I’ve seen you flailing around in the tavern. Our fair leader, however, is always light on her feet. I knew she‘d be good at this, watching her cast.”

The third skeleton broke in, and Avexis whirled around and around until her braid flew out of its bindings and hit the skeleton in the face. Abruptly, the skeleton stopped her spinning, released her, and sunk into another low bow. Relieved and exhilarated, Avexis curtseyed. “Merci, Monsieur Bruce,” she laughed over the thing’s shoulder at Dorian.

“Thank you, my dear,” Dorian sighed with satisfaction. “We’ll make a dancer of you yet. Next time - full extensions! How flexible are you? Oh, maybe we can work on lifts - you‘re light enough! Or… dancing and talking at the same time. There‘s a trick to that. It involves always answering a question with a question. It doesn‘t make for great conversation, but it makes you seem cleverer than you really are. Mystery appeals.” With a flick of magic the skeletons wandered back to the bog and abruptly fell back into the water with a muffled splash. “You might actually need that, some day, if the fair Josie gets her way with the nobles of Orlais. Orlesians rarely leave the Game at home, in my experience.”

“Well-put,” Vivienne agreed, wrapping the lute up again, with loving hands. “Dancing is a useful skill, my dear.”

Avexis shivered at the thought of the Game, “Dorian… I don’t like heights. And won’t I break them, if they lift me?”

Dorian chuckled. “They’ll do anything I tell them to. My will holds them together.”

Avexis settled back into her place by the fire, leaving her bedroll where it lay, for once completely warm. “You’re scary.”

“I am aware, yes,” Dorian glanced behind him. “Also brilliant, and pretty.”

“And humble. Yeah, we’ve noticed,” rumbled Bull. He stood up, laboriously and stretched. Dorian’s eyes glazed over. “I’m taking next watch.” He winked - maybe - at Dorian. “Don’t wait up.”

Dorian merely sniffed in disdain. “Avexis isn‘t the only one who needs her beauty sleep.”

 

_< EotD>_

 

The small group stumbled back into Haven from the Fallow Mire, and even the sentries pulled back as the horrid odor surrounding them like a miasma reached their sinuses. Avexis tossed the disgusting ingredients for the plague elixir at the quartermaster’s wrinkled nose before she headed to her cabin, hoping beyond hope that a bath would be waiting. She had sent the raven announcing their success two days prior… and begged whoever was reading to let them bathe before the inevitable meetings began.

Instead, Cullen was pacing outside her cabin. “Herald!”

“Have you forgotten my name now?” She smiled, and sniffed. “Mariée du Créateur*, Cullen, keep your distance. I smell like une Sorcière Marécageuse*.” In response to his blank look, “Swamp witch, I think? I‘m not sure how to translate. Isolationists? Tend to be women?”

“Oh, you mean a Witch of the Wilds,” Cullen rubbed the back of his neck as she repeated the phrase to herself, trying to commit it to memory. “I wanted to thank you personally for retrieving the soldiers from the Avvar, and killing that apostate.”

“Oh, he wasn’t an apostate,” Avexis corrected, “Widris was a Warden. His diaries said so, and he had all the armor at his campsite. I brought it back, of course. You never know when you might need something like that, and I had the vague idea that maybe we needed to report him dead to someone in authority? Blackwall had no idea why he wasn‘t with the other Wardens, wherever that may be, but I thought perhaps it wasn’t unusual for a Warden to go missing… I was going to ask him some questions when I realized who he was with, but he attacked before I could do anything.”

Cullen frowned. “I see. Still, you rescued those soldiers. You’re their hero, Harding said in her last letter. She claims that Avvar warrior was twice your size…”

“And half as intelligent. He was no trouble at all. Speaking of Avvar, though, Sky Watcher is traveling with the wounded soldiers, as he‘s a sort of… warrior priest, and has some knowledge of healing plants. He‘s eager to join the cause,” Avexis countered, and waved him into her cabin, opening the window on the way. “There, hopefully we’ll get enough of a breeze so that my stench doesn’t choke you.”

“You are rather… pungent,” Cullen admitted.

Avexis made a face, “You can say that again. Bath!” She crowed like Sera at the sight of the steaming water, and pulled a screen in the corner in front of the copper tub. “Hot water is something out of the Golden City. Every drop of water in the Mire was either plague-ridden or rainwater. Didn‘t make for easy bathing.” She breathed the steam in deeply and dumped in a plump handful of scented bath salts. The smell of Embrium wafted from the water.

Cullen cleared his throat, “I’ll take my leave, then.” The outline of her form struggled with the buckles on her jacket against the silk of the screen.  He averted his eyes.

Avexis waved her hand at him, “Thank you. I have to get this smell rinsed off. I hope the Embrium is enough.” She popped her head out from behind the screen, dropping her coat onto the floor, and kicking it away with a foot. “I think this armor is a loss.  We'll never get the stench out.  Will I see you tonight?”

“Only if you can’t sleep,” Cullen worked up a smile, but it was stiff and hesitant. “Otherwise, you should rest.”

Her face fell, “If you don’t want me to…”

“On the contrary,” he rushed, “It’s just… I didn’t want to assume, or for you to think that keeping me company was required or…”

Avexis stood up and came out from behind the screen, already stripped down to her under tunic and simple breeches. “What are you talking about?”

“There’s been some more gossip,” he said lowly.

“I don’t care what people think anymore,” Avexis shrugged. “Though Bruce the Bigmouth should close his, if he knows what’s good for him. I’m getting annoyed, and Sera‘s threatening to shut his mouth the permanent way. It’s not like we’re doing anything…” her words trailed off, “If we were, we‘d be hiding it, given… well…” her words trailed off. “You’d have to. Wouldn‘t we?”

“People think we’re… involved, anyway,” Cullen coughed. “It’s rather more widespread than the last time you were in Haven. Someone is embellishing what Bruce started. The rumors began with you and I sitting on a rock in the middle of the night, and now we’re…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Cassandra came to talk to me, last time. I wasn‘t sure how to bring it up with you. She didn‘t want me to mention it at all, but that seems… dishonest. You should know, and after you stormed into my office declaring you - needed me, even Rylen…”

Avexis laughed hoarsely, “You’re joking. Cassandra wouldn‘t…” Her ears turned pink. “Oh, Maker, tell me that she didn’t… try to defend my honor?” Cullen was silent. “Oh, Cullen, I’m so sorry she embarrassed you. I‘ll have a word with her. Cassandra, of all people, knows that there is nothing going on.”

“Nothing going on,” Cullen swallowed, “exactly. I’m sorry for taking up your time, Herald.”

“It’s Avexis, Cullen. What have people been saying to you?“ Avexis frowned at him, “I thought we were friends?”

“Friends. Of course we are,” Cullen nodded. “I’ll leave you to your bath.”

Somehow the bath wasn’t quite as satisfying as she thought it would be, after that confusing conversation. Avexis stared up at the rafters, silent and brooding until Cassandra clomped in sometime later. “I’ll refill the bath for you,” Avexis called out.

“I bathed in the bathhouse,” Cassandra said. “Take your time.”

Avexis played in the water, heating it up slightly with her magic, and then watched it drip through her fingers. “Cassandra, am I doing something wrong, talking to the Commander at night? Should I not?”

“You are doing nothing wrong,” Cassandra settled her armor on her stand, adjusting it and grabbing her polish.

“People are talking.”

“People are idiots. They see two people enjoying each other’s company and think them romantically involved. If it wasn‘t you with the Commander, it would be someone else, even more unlikely,” Cassandra continued after a significant pause, with a hoarse voice, tinged simultaneously with curiosity and… was it hope? “Are you involved?”

“No!” Her voice might have been a little too loud, and she winced. “I would have… told you. Probably.”

Cassandra took a deep breath, “Do you want to be?”

Avexis shoved the screen aside, “What?”

“Do you like the Commander?” The Seeker asked stiffly. Avexis blinked at her dully. “He’s a good man, Avexis. He’s kind, and while he has certain - struggles…”

“He’s very kind, and patient,” Avexis stated softly. “I like him a great deal. But he’s a Templar, Cassandra.”

She shook her head, “He’s left the Order.”

“He doesn’t trust mages. He‘s trying, but… he doesn‘t.” Avexis leaned back in the tub. “It’s not like you and Galyan. You trusted him completely.”

Cassandra snorted, “I pinned Galyan to the ground and shackled him the first time we met. I thought him in league with Frenic, and jumped to conclusions. It took us… some time before we became… lovers.” The older woman flushed red and blotchy against her olive skin. “I did not trust him. I didn't trust any mages for a very long time after Anthony died.”

Avexis’ mouth had dropped open. “But you were together for…”

“Years and years,” Cassandra sniffed. “It ended, of course. I am not… easy to be with.”

“It was me,” Avexis contradicted, putting her grey memories of the time, just after her Rite together. “I became Tranquil, and you didn’t come to visit anymore. Did I… did I make you two…”

Cassandra glanced up, horrified, “No! We argued, yes. We often argued. I disagreed with your decision, you know that, and Galyan… he defended your right to choose. But I think our affair was slowly ending, in any case. I couldn’t be the woman he needed me to be, nor him the man I wanted, with the Tower standing between us. It wasn’t your fault, Avexis. It‘s the way things are… or the way they were. They might never be the same again, but it was too late for us. Even if he had… lived.  I said things he could never forgive.”

Avexis stared at her knees, small pale islands in the water. “I used to pretend you were my parents, when I was a child. That’s why I worked so hard, to have a choice about where to transfer, to make it to Montsimmard after my Harrowing. It wasn’t ambition, or anything worthy. I wanted you two to be proud that you saved my life. That you went to all that trouble just for one little elf girl.”

"Saving your life was the best thing I ever did," Cassandra sniffed, “But I’m far too young to be your mother. That dwarf…”

Avexis tried not to laugh, “I know. I was pretending, Cassandra. I only had 10 years. To me you two looked ancient. And Varric‘s only teasing.”

“He should make jokes about something else. It is rude to discuss a woman’s age.” She cleared her throat, “If you want to… see the Commander as something more than the Commander, you should not care about what anyone else thinks. The same goes for anyone else you might find… attractive.” Her voice was even stiffer.

Avexis dipped her fingers into the water again, and watched them drip dry. “I will think about it. My history with romance isn’t…”

“I know,” Cassandra admitted lowly, “but Cullen is a different sort of man.” She met Avexis’ eyes again. “He would not treat you poorly.”

Avexis rose and grabbed at the towel heating by the fire, water sliding off her in sheets. “I… I don’t know what I think yet. Everything is so busy. I should be concentrating on sealing the Breach.”

“You’re already doing that,” Cassandra shook her head. “Passion, love, they make life worth living, Avexis. And… you’ve had few tastes of life before now. Just… think about it. It doesn‘t all have to be fighting and saving the world.”

Avexis wrinkled her forehead and didn’t reply.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C'est folie - It's crazy
> 
> *Mariée du Créateur - Bride of the Maker. Thought about going with Fabricant, but... I like this better. If it's wrong, correct me!
> 
> *une Sorcière Marécageuse - more like a marsh witch, which brought back to mind the Blackmarsh from Origins. But I didn't like the direct translation of 'Witch of the wilds', so I made this up instead. It looks pretty. Again, if I'm wrong, correct me! There's definitely more than one Witch of the Wilds in Dragon Age - Read 'The Silent Grove', if you're interested. Yavana is an interesting character, unless you're Alistair.


	13. Stars, Marks, and Fade-step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Miss me?!
> 
> Back on a regular posting schedule now - expect the next Thursday.
> 
> I hate it when all I can do is write and not post. The worst wifi connections in all of Texas must have been following me. I could barely email! Forced technology detox does not work.
> 
> And I just had the sudden urge to type y'all after that last sentence. In my defense, I'm jetlagged, and sleepy, falling asleep on Alaska time, and waking up on Texas time for the last ten days. I'm seriously messed up.
> 
> But have a chapter. Pretty sure it makes sense, as it was written before I left. :D

“In my opinion, you’re all ignoring the fact that hundreds of innocent people are gone, due to the presence of the magister!” Avexis slammed both hands down on the war table hard enough to make the map markers rattle, all of Cullen’s carefully compiled evidence against Tevinter mages being responsible for Tranquil deaths spread out in the small situation room in the Chantry. Despite the timing of the magister‘s arrival versus the appearance of the ocularum in the Hinterlands, despite the questionable provenance of several of the mages in Redcliffe, his evidence was largely coincidental, and nothing damning had emerged. Avexis’ hair sparked with the depth of her emotion on the subject. Cullen couldn’t help but feel he had failed her. “If you don’t want to recruit the mages, fine. But Alexius should be brought to justice before we go to the Templars. What he has done in Redcliffe is illegal.” She turned to Josie, unsure after the words were said. “Slavery is illegal in Ferelden, just like in Orlais, isn‘t it? Murder is illegal everywhere!”

“We can’t march an army across Fereldan soil, no matter how illegal the activity. We have no authority there,” the Ambassador said softly. “Our options are limited. We can send him a strongly worded letter asking him to cease and desist. We can appeal to the King of Ferelden with the Commander‘s evidence, offer our aid to Arl Teagan…”

“C’est de nul*,” Avexis sniffed, “Worthless. That magister has an entire army at the tip of his fingers, and the rebel mages will fight us at his side - some think us the Chantry by a different name.” She averted her eyes. “It was no place to be known as a loyalist. I thought one woman was going to attack me.”

“Who?” Cullen asked stiffly, hoping to redeem himself - or at least another lead.

“I don’t remember her name, something ending with an ‘a‘? Pretty name, mentioned that blood magic was taught in the Imperium, tried to convince me that she was from the White Spire. I didn‘t remember her, but the Spire was a big place.” Avexis shrugged away the question of her life being threatened. “It matters not. What about the Templars - we need nobles to approach them? That’s all bullshit, too. I don’t suppose they’ve come to their senses while I‘ve been gone?”

“That’s assuming they had senses to return to, instead of just being very good at following orders,” Leliana said from her shadowy corner.

“You’re going to have to pick someone sooner, rather than later,” Avexis summed up when Cullen was done snarling at the spymaster. “I’ve done my part, going to meet the rebels. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Alexius did want to meet with you,” Leliana nudged the piece of paper across the table. “He wants to kill you, but perhaps if we use you as a distraction…”

“Absolutely not.” Cullen gripped his sword and ran his hand through the back of his hair. “The risk to the Herald is unacceptable. We need the mark!”

They were all silent for a little while before Avexis spoke, far more quietly but somehow angrier than before, “Perhaps all of you should make up your minds where you would like ‘the mark’ to go, and then grab me and point me in an appropriate direction. Solas can assist - he has experience in grabbing my hand and aiming. In the meantime, I will be in my cabin, waiting for your decision, since it is only the mark that matters, not the body it is attached to.” She backed away from the table, nostrils flaring and teeth clenched, and took hold of the door latch. “Strange how much you all think exactly like the man murdering Tranquil. They‘re more use as ocularum than as people, aren‘t they? I suppose _the mark_ is no different. What a shame that it‘s attached to a person instead of a stick and a skull.  Perhaps that's the answer - mounting my hand on the end of a staff and giving it to Solas to use? You might want to think on it.” She slammed the door behind her.

Cassandra snapped at Cullen and Leliana. “What are you thinking? You’re treating her like an object. You!” She pointed at Leliana, “You wanted to use her as bait?! What would Justinia think? Go apologize at once! And you!” she pointed at Cullen, “I will talk to you alone. Now.” Her foot began tapping as Leliana and Josie left. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, wincing. “It was wrong. I shouldn‘t have said…”

“You will apologize. In depth, and informing her exactly why she isn’t her mark, and should be treated with consideration as a person, not a thing,” Cassandra stressed the last word. “I thought better of you, Commander. Didn‘t you learn anything in Kirkwall?!”

 

_< EotD>_

 

That night, she didn’t come, and Cullen gave up waiting on the rock after an hour, in favor of wandering elsewhere, kicking stray clumps of snow and pebbles that got in his way as he wandered closer to the lake. He heard sniffling and stopped, closing his eyes and giving up his last hope that she slept comfortably in her bed.

It was worse than he had thought. She had actively avoided him, seeking out another spot to spend her night instead of staying in her room. He approached with caution, brushing aside the tangled web of willows concealing her hiding spot - a clearing that sloped down to the lake with a small pile of rocks topped with a balled up shadow. “Avexis?”

“Who’s there?” She sounded stuffy. “I‘ve warded the fuck out of this rock. Don‘t come any closer.”

“It’s me. Cullen.”

“Definitely don’t come any closer, then.” Her voice rose to a near shriek and from around the corner of the boulder something started to glow, a mix of white tinged with green from her mark. He froze in place, hearing snapping sounds that boded ill for her state of mind. “Stay away or get shocked.”

“I’m here to apologize, if you’ll let me.”

“To me or the mark? I‘m sure the mark will appreciate your thoughtfulness. It doesn‘t want to be attached to me, either.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“The mark isn’t part of me - it feels foreign. It belongs to whoever - whatever - ripped open the sky. I’m not a tool,” she hissed. “I’m not going to be treated like I’m Tranquil any longer! We shouldn‘t even be treating Tranquil like they‘re Tranquil! It‘s wrong! You‘re all wrong!”

“You’re right. I was wrong. I… don’t know what else to say to make this better.” Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I don’t even have my sword on me. I’m not a threat. I’m going to sit down. Can I talk to you from here?”

Avexis choked, “The worst part is Cassandra told me you wouldn’t treat me poorly. She said you were…” she climbed to the top of the rock and perched, one boot clad foot backlit by her own glyph, eyes glowing and hair sparking around her head in a electric frenzy. “She said you were different. That I should trust you. I did trust you. But you don’t trust me - none of you do! Except Cassandra… so why should I return the favor? It would serve the entire Inquisition right if I just left you and Leliana the Bloodthirsty Bard to work out this mess on your own - without the mark.”

Cullen bit back his protest that he did trust her, unsure in that moment, if it was true. She looked… dangerous in her anger. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down, “That’s what you did today.”

“Dare I hope you came to a decision?” Her sarcastic tone told him she already knew the answer.

“We didn‘t have the opportunity,” Cullen admitted sheepishly, “We were scolded into submission by an irate Seeker, who told Leliana to find you and offer her apologies, while I was berated thoroughly. I was going to apologize, anyway,” Cullen hastened to add. “I knew it was wrong as soon as I said… that. You’re so much more than your mark,” his voice broke, and he cleared it hastily. “You’re funny, and witty, and engaging, and clever, and… magical,” his voice sank. “Your mark lets us close the rifts. That’s all. You’ve turned the entire Inquisition into a force to be reckoned with, even in Val Royeaux. Your mark didn’t do that. You did.” He pulled a scrap of folded parchment out of his inner pocket. “I made a list of your contributions to the Inquisition, outside of closing rifts, if you want to see it. I spent the afternoon putting it together, when I should have been signing off on reports and trying to figure out a way to lay siege to Redcliffe. Rylen found it and laughed his head off,” he added, hoping that making himself seem like the fool he was would help. “He told me I should work on my love letters, because it read like a grocery list.”

Avexis sat down, her feet off to one side of the lopsided boulder. “I see,” she sniffed. “That’s a decent apology.”

“It’s an earnest one.” Cullen shifted - the snow was melting under his ass and pooling into icy mud, but he didn‘t want to startle her or move at all. She was listening. A little wet could be dealt with, if she would only listen. “I consider you a… friend, Avexis. I can’t be friends with a mark. And I don’t have enough friends that I can afford to isolate them with careless words.” The glyph faded in a burst of light. “Forgive me, please.”

“I’ll think about it.” But she was climbing over the rock and settling down to face him in the snow. “I liked you, before today, Cullen. I described you as kind, sweet and thoughtful to… people. Several people. I think I still think that. Maybe,” she added dryly. “I’ll have to think about it. Didn‘t any Knight-Captain tell you to watch your tongue around strange mages?”

Cullen’s mouth twitched, “Yes, they certainly did,” he coughed. “Don’t talk to Varric about me in Kirkwall.”

“Did Varric know you in Kirkwall?!” Avexis puzzled. “He never said… but he‘s still upset at me about me contradicting him about Orsino.”

“I said ‘don’t‘,” Cullen scowled.

“Then don’t make me a liar, in the future,” Avexis reached out and touched his boot, warily, as if she were afraid it would kick her on its own accord. “Cullen. Are we really… friends?”

“I would like to be your friend,” he said earnestly. “I’ve never known anyone like you. When you were sleeping, Cassandra said you were anything but grey, and now I can see why. You’re… you’re vibrant.” He shook his head, “I’m glad I didn’t know you when you were Tranquil. I can‘t understand why you would ever choose that half-life for yourself.”

Avexis looked down and nudged his boot with her own. “Someone told me it meant I didn’t think that there was anything in my life worth feeling. I’m… beginning to think he was right.”

“He?” Cullen raised both eyebrows. “Someone I should know about?” He suppressed the surge of jealousy. It had probably been Dorian…

Avexis nudged him harder, “You would fixate on that.” She cleared her throat, “Blackwall said so. He didn’t understand how I could choose to not feel anything. But my life in the Circle, before Tranquility, was… complicated. Not all bad, but…” Cullen repressed his urge to scowl as she closed her eyes. “I’m making up for it now. Now, I feel everything, and I can’t stop, even for a moment. It’s rich and confusing, and above all, messy.” She took a deep breath, “I’d make different decisions now, I think, after having met Sera, and Dorian, and Blackwall, and… you,” she said the last in an under breath, only to rush directly into the next sentence, as if afraid she was being too lenient. “But if you ever treat me like that again, I’m going to lay a paralysis glyph on your bed that will hold you until dawn. Don‘t think I can‘t do it. I wouldn‘t even feel guilty. You could use the extra rest.”

“It’ll never go off, then,” Cullen teased cautiously. “I haven’t been to bed for three days. I‘ve slept at my desk for two nights running.” She reached out and shoved him, and he let himself fall back in the snow, his heart lighter.

She had touched him. Twice. She didn’t hate him.

He looked up at her softened, thoughtful eyes - and perhaps, a little bit worried - was the worry for him? Why? - but then, in a flurry of graceful magic, she tossed a snowball directly in his face, grabbed the list out of his hand while he sputtered at the shock of the ice, and disappeared. “Thank you for the apology,” he scrambled to his feet, looking around for her footprints. There weren’t any. Apparently, Enchanter Avexis, the Herald of Andraste, had finally re-mastered the art of Fadestep, and thus another way to run away. “I will think about forgiving you. At length, after reading this billet-doux*.” Her voice and laugh came from all around him, ghost-like. “I will inform you tomorrow if it reads like a grocery list.”

“Thank you, Ladybird,” he called out.

“Quit calling me that,” drifted back after a moment, and then there was only silence, and the stars far ahead.

It wasn’t perfect, Cullen mused, looking up at Judex, crisp and clear, but it was better than nothing.

 

< _EotD >_

 

Avexis, back in her cabin with a snoring Cassandra in the adjoining bed, sparked a small flame into the lantern next to her bed by snapping her fingers, and dimmed it down, reading the list - flatteringly long.

It was no love letter, but it was thorough. Small, shaky handwriting - and why did his hands shake? - listed an entire page of everything from caring for refugees to talking to farmers worried about animals driven mad by the rift. Rescued soldiers, recruited agents, ending open combat in the Hinterlands, putting out fires caused by the combatants, finding a healer for the Inquisition…

Her fingers trailed down the list to the very end.

There, separated from the more practical concerns of the Inquisition was a single line.

_Befriends those who don’t deserve it._

Avevis traced the letters, frowning. Who didn’t deserve it, precisely? He couldn’t mean… himself?

What about Cullen wasn’t to like? Other than a nasty habit of insulting and hurting people he ought not, anyway...

Cassandra coughed, interrupting her musing, and rolled over, her voice hoarse with sleep. “Put out the light, Avexis, and go to sleep. We have to continue the damn fool meeting tomorrow. We both need rest to keep our patience.”

Avexis smiled to herself, secret and small, and folded the letter to slip it under her pillow in the most quiet movement she could manage. “All right, Cassandra.” She turned the wick down even lower, leaving the barest blue flicker-y glow in the globe. “Good night,” she whispered.

Cassandra humphed, and humped up to roll over instead of replying.

But for once, Avexis fell asleep with a smile on her face, and her dreams were… not what she expected.

 

_< EotD>_

 

“It’s not a good plan, but it’s a plan,” Leliana urged the other four people the very next day, after they had reconvened in the room, and with a few words, dispelled the awkward aura lingering from their last meeting. “We sneak into the castle using this secret entrance, and then we…”

“But you said it was sealed to the members of the family,” Cullen argued.

Leliana waved her hand in dismissal. “I have a friend that has a ring that can get us in. I expect it any day, since I told her I might need it. She‘s… not far.”

“What friend is this?” Josie enthused, her pen already poised to scribble down a name, “They sound powerful and influential. I thought you weren‘t overly acquainted with the Guerrins?”

Leliana blushed, glancing at Cassandra, “Warden Surana might have… kept a few things, over the years.”

Cassandra narrowed her eyes. “We will speak of this later.” Leliana’s eyes flashed - but it might have been with amusement.

“Ah,” Cullen swallowed. “Neria is well, then?”

Leliana narrowed her eyes, “Don’t. Start. She’s never forgiven you for what you said.”

“Another one?” muttered Avexis in the Commander‘s direction. “How many years do you have, to have insulted so many people?”

“Do you mean how old am I?“ Cullen whispered, slightly confused at her phrasing, “I’ll be 30, come Guardian. And yes, I’ve insulted the Hero of Ferelden, who was once a member of the Circle at Kinloch. In addition, the Champion of Kirkwall held a grudge for… a good three years, by my count, after I said something particularly idiotic and prejudiced. She’s pretty good at grudges, among other things.” He cleared his throat, as quietly as possible, “You already know what I said to the Herald of Andraste.”

“I can’t even begin to compete. The worst thing I’ve ever said was when I was sixteen I told an Enchanter who was supposed to be teaching me Remedial Common that if a ‘threesome’ was the same thing as a mé nage à trois, then I understood why people called him ‘handsome’,” Avexis whispered. “He was trying to come onto me, teaching me words like that. He requested a transfer out of the White Spire the next day.”

Cullen choked, “Maker’s Breath, Avexis, it‘s a wonder you‘re alive, with a mouth like that.”

“You shouldn’t talk. You have a habit of insulting dangerous people.” They quieted when they realized that the three women were looking at them, bemused at their interruption, and that Cassandra’s eyebrow was actually twitching. “Sorry,” Cullen cleared his throat once more, and spoke clearly. “Leliana, offer my sincere apologies to Warden Commander Surana and tell her I would love the opportunity to apologize in person.”

“She’s taken,” Leliana turned her interest away from the subject as Cullen sputtered his denial of having any interest in the woman as Avexis’ laughter swallowed her whole. “As I was saying, I can get the scouts in, no trouble, if…” she turned to Avexis who grew more serious, staring down at the map of the approximate layout of Redcliffe, her eyes sad.

“If I risk myself with Alexius, who has something to do with the disappearance of the Tranquil - and if it‘s not him, it‘s the Venatori he brought with him.” Her eyebrows drew in, and she touched her forehead gently - her hair pulled back directly to display her scar today.

There was no point in hiding it. People needed to know what she was. If they were going to believe in Andraste’s Herald, they needed to believe in all of her - even in the part who used to be Tranquil. It felt strange to display it, but - she needed to.

People’s eyes had slid away from her all morning. No one wanted the reminder of what she had been.

“You don’t have to do it,” Cullen reminded her, his voice gentle. She didn‘t dare look at him. “We can still approach the Templars.”

“Non,” Avexis frowned and picked up the dagger they had decided would mark a major operation on the war table. She drove it in an inch, with considerable rocking and grunting, and looked up. “I think I must. No one else cares enough to stop this particular version of genocide. Tranquil have a right to live.” She took a deep breath, “Dorian comes with me. He has the best chance at keeping Alexius occupied and off balance while the assassins kill his guards. I’m going to take Cassandra and Sera with me as well. If nothing else, I‘ll sic Sera on him, and confuse him with her dizzying language structures while we wait for the scouts to do their job. The rest of my companions will remain behind, under the Commander’s command, in case of… negative developments.” She took her hand away from the dagger and wiped her palm on her thigh to rid it of the sweat generated from her fear. “Any objections?”

Cassandra shook her head, though her face told a different story.

“Maker‘s Breath, please be careful,” Cullen muttered under his breath.

“Don’t start worrying now, Commander. The mark is just fine." She flipped up her middle finger at him while displaying her left palm.  Cassandra hid her tired eyes behind her own hand, while Leliana giggled. "Besides,” Avexis sassed, “how much trouble can one magister be?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orlesian:
> 
> C'est de nul - worthless, literally 'it's nothing'.
> 
> billet-doux - love note


	14. Magisters, Wolves and Warnings

“The answer to that question was: A fuckton of trouble,” Avexis panted in Dorian’s direction. “Dorian… what did he do?” She lifted a single foot out of the water, deep enough to fill her boots entirely. “Yuck. And these were my new socks. Disgusting.” She glanced around them, looking at the red stones casting a blood red tint on everything. “What’s happened? Can you tell?”

“Displacement,” Dorian blinked, dazed with the possibilities. “He sent us through time. Not place, just… time. We‘re still in Redcliffe.” He lifted an eyebrow, with a strange mix of enthusiasm and fear shining bright behind his eyes, “We have larger problems than ruined socks, Herald-of-all-things-woolly.”

“Time magic, like the rift outside of Redcliffe, and like he used to get here?” Avexis remembered, trying to focus with shaking hands, touching her flattened scar as if to ground herself in the present - this present, not the other... She shivered, and spoke, trying to make her voice firm and confident. “All right - how do we get back?” She waded with difficulty over to one of the guards they had just killed, and patted down his belt pouch. “Nothing but a wooden mabari totem. One of these two have to have the keys, right?” She pocketed the little icon immediately, as Dorian arched his eyebrow higher, invoking even more criticism in her general direction. “What? Cullen might like it, and Satinalia is coming too quickly for me to make socks for him. I just finished this pair, and they’re already ruined. I can‘t ask Josie to buy me more when I get back, funds are so tight that the soldiers are being encouraged to act as armed escorts, and I ruined another pair of socks wading through the swamp to kill Widris.” She tightened her hand around the little totem, before letting it go entirely in her own pouch, her eyes worried, “You can get us back, right?”

Dorian opened and closed his mouth, and then opened it again. “I have some thoughts on that. They’re lovely thoughts, like little jewels.”

“You have no idea, do you?”

“I have no idea. Shall we find Alexius and ask him nicely? We can work on a plan B in the meantime. One that doesn‘t involve you giving me hideous socks for Satinalia to celebrate our survival.”

“Who said I was giving you anything? We‘ve only just met, in the scheme of things, and you made me dance with corpses.“

“Well, aren’t you friendly? Surely if the Commander merits a Satinalia present, I deserve one, too!” Dorian’s voice shook through his bravado. “I could use something to look forward to, after this.”

Avexis rolled her eyes, and wandered over and knelt in the ankle deep water in order to pat down the guard’s pockets. “Keys,” she tossed them to Dorian, who dropped them. “Really?”

“Sorry,” he made a face as he bent down and fished them out of the water. “Ugh, who knows what kind of… filth we can’t see floating in here.”

“Try not to think about it. My socks are full of whatever filth you can dream up. The Veil seems thin here, don‘t you think? There are probably rifts. We should… we should be cautious. I‘d rather not meet a Fear demon down here.”

“Too late not to think about it,” he muttered, and followed her through the door to the next series of cells. “So, do you think they have a calendar displayed somewhere, to find out when we are? Or perhaps we will run into a convenient display of Satinalia decorations, next to the Divine’s declaration of the name of the next age, or mentions of a Harvest festival? Perhaps someone’s left a Bloomingtide bouquet on the front steps, expecting to be chased down for a kiss? Surely they support such bucolic pleasures in rural Ferelden?”

Avexis stopped dead, her face pale, and supporting herself on the wall between cells. “I really don’t think anyone wants to kiss Alexius. Felix, maybe. He’s kind of cute, despite the unfortunate haircut. But it - it would be easier to ask her.” She nodded at the cell in front of her. “Go ahead,” she whispered, and quit talking, almost before the word ended, eyes wide and unseeing.

Dorian sputtered, “Felix‘s haircut is not…” and then his eyes focused on the sight before them, “Fasta Vass-” In the cell opposite, the former Grand Enchanter Fiona stood encased in red crystal up nearly up to her shoulders. “Is that who I think it is?” Dorian hissed at her, but Avexis just stared, the red lyrium surrounding the woman singing out strangely and generating an uncomfortable amount of heat, and amplifying a strange voice in her head - a whisper boosted into a roar. “Excuse me, madam,” Dorian glanced at his suddenly silent friend worriedly, “but do you happen to know the date?”

< _EotD_ >

“All I’m saying, is that if you don’t let the mages help you close the Breach after this, I’m going to leave and never come back,” Dorian lectured his still-quiet friend as they waded through the too-red dungeons in search of Leliana and anyone else that might help them, guided by Fiona‘s few words. “This whole situation is largely their doing, I know, and they deserve to have to deal with the consequences. However, one of the consequences might as well be helping you with the hole in the sky, don’t you think?”

Avexis stumbled on, her eyes wide and dilated, through the remains of Redcliffe’s dungeon, without replying. Dorian funneled his concern for her odd behavior into his natural loquaciousness.

“I know it’s too much to hope that the Inquisition will show Alexius mercy, but… perhaps death is too good for him,” Dorian continued, a little too loudly to be conversational. “He’s always loved research - surely you could use him?”

In the distance, they heard a strange voice, whimpering through what sounded like a poem or song. “We walked where willows wail… no…” the voice stopped, and started over. “When wolves wan, we walked where… shite. That‘s not how it goes? Damn it, they can‘t take that away!” A set of cell bars rattled, as if a body slammed up against it. “Ow… stupid Fereldan locks.”

Avexis increased her pace to a fumbling run, splashing through the streams of murky water, and grabbed the bars of the cell.

“No…” Sera whimpered, backing against the wall of her prison, but not quite touching the red lyrium that grew there. “No, no, no, you’re dead! They don’t come back!”

“Oh, I‘m dead,” Avexis managed, her voice hoarse with hope. “I came back on purpose to haunt you, Sera.“ Dorian’s shoulders relaxed at her response. She could still talk, after all. He thought perhaps the red lyrium had… well, at best it was distracting. At worst, it felt like it was flaying him alive. The damn stuff was everywhere.

“I didn’t do shite to you! And I saw you die,” the archer protested, stepping forward to defend herself, her eyes gleaming with a frightened challenge. “But it’s really you, ain’t it? No one else has that kind of snark.”

“Definitely not dead,” Dorian sighed, and unlocked the cell. “We’re going to find Alexius and set this right. He sent us through time, a year into the future. We’ve only just arrived.”

“Je suis plus tard,*” Avexis muttered to Sera. “Thanks for waiting?”

“You’re late? Is that all you got to say? No thanks from me, I would have left your bloody arse behind iffen I had the choice,” Sera choked, trying not to laugh, and then gasped air back in, wrapping her arms around her torso as if she was in pain. “All right, I’m coming with ya. But only because the Elder One needs an arrow in his dangle bags. You and me, we’re not all right, Herald, got it? Not yet, anyway. I hope you got something I can shoot.”

“We’ll… we’ll find something,” Avexis stared blankly at the wall again, her eyes sunken and shadowed. “Un moment, s‘il te plaî t? I‘m… not well. There‘s something…” her words trailed off.

“What’s wrong with her?” Sera demanded of Dorian. “Why’s she being so fucking weird? She‘s being even spookier than before, and that‘s saying too much! She hurt?”

“I… I don’t know.” Dorian admitted. “She doesn’t seem injured…”

“Well, fix her,” Sera muttered. “She’s giving me the creeps. You mages are supposed to be able to heal, right?”

“Excuse me, I’ve managed to get her this far, despite her… lapses,” Dorian glanced at her again, his hands fidgeting with the keys still in his hand. “And not every mage is a healer, just like not every elf is an archer. Neither of us possess that particular talent.”

Sera snorted, her cheeks flushed with anger, and her eyes glowing with something Dorian really didn‘t want to think about. “Yeah, whatever, just… let’s get out of here.”

< _EotD_ >

“Andraste has given us another chance,” Cassandra limped to the door of the cell, as Dorian unlocked it, and, much to his surprise, the woman actually embraced Avexis, cupping her face to her shoulder in a uncharacteristic display of affection. “It’s a miracle. A miracle.” Avexis stood stiffly, returning the hug after a second with her ongoing air of distraction. Cassandra nearly thrust her away. “What… what’s wrong?” She asked the magister, her forehead wrinkled.

Dorian just shook his head. “I don’t know. She hasn’t said much since we found… the Grand Enchanter. She keeps drifting away. It could be the red lyrium, I suppose - it makes me feel like someone is twisting my nerve endings the way she makes yarn. She might have an usual sensitivity, perhaps?”

Cassandra cupped her face. “Avexis? Avexis, speak to me. What…”

“Un dragon,” she whispered, her face crumpling. “Il y a un dragon, Cassandra. Mais ce n'est pas la façon dont il devrait être.* Like before… you believed me, didn‘t you? No one else believed me. They didn‘t believe me before the Blight… they told me I was making it up - that there was no way I‘d be able to hear… that the Blights were over, and I was trying to get attention…”

Dorian’s eyes went wide, "It's not what it should be? What does that mean?" 

Sera shuddered and muttered, “Not a frickin' archdemon…”.

Cassandra braced her shoulders carefully. “Block it out, Avexis.”

“Je ne peux pas n’arrete*,” she whispered, but her eyes focused a little on the Seeker. “Nothing’s working. She‘s too loud, Seeker. It’s wrong. They don’t get this loud, unless... And… Elle, elle, elle… Make her stop! Arrêtez!”

“She says she can’t stop it,” Cassandra translated unnecessarily, her eyes worried.

“Creepy…” muttered Sera, shivering.

“Am I dreaming?” Avexis whimpered, her eyes focusing momentarily, “Why can’t I wake up? I’ve always been able to wake up… I don‘t want to talk to dragons.” They faded out again, blank and despairing.

“We’ve got to find Alexius,” Dorian told the other two. “We’ve got to stop this from ever happening.” He surveyed his friend grimly, “And we’ve got to get her out of here before she goes mad. The red lyrium alone… can you two feel it?”

“Not the same as you, I think, but we are agreed,” Cassandra braced herself, and then tested her injured leg. It held and she barely limped as she moved forward. “Find me a sword, magister.”

“I’m not a magister,” Dorian sighed, but moved over to a likely looking chest in the corner and began to dig through it. “Arrows, Sera,” he handed the quiver out from behind his back, and the archer took it, being careful not to touch Avexis, whose hair was sparking and lifting slowly.

“Breathe, Avexis,” Cassandra whispered. “Focus. You have to retain control - we’re still standing in water, and you’ll shock us all if you lose control now. Remember the meditations, and calm yourself.”

“I’m trying,” Avexis sucked air in. “I’m trying, Seeker.”

“I know.” Cassandra glanced around them, “We need to move her to higher ground, away from all this water. That way we won’t all become conductors if she has… an issue.”

“Her issues are gonna get us all killed! Can’t you just Silence her or something?” Sera demanded.

Cassandra glared at the elf, “I could, if I wanted to be responsible for leaving her defenseless. Would you rather have her help or be out of commission for several hours while we fight for our lives?” Sera was silent. “Exactly. She will… she will be fine.” She sniffed, and took the helm Dorian had just found, and put it on her own head.

“No sword, but here’s a hatchet or axe or something,” Dorian stood, and handed the weapon to her with two fingers. “Inelegant.”

“If it has a blade, that is enough,” Cassandra straightened. “No shield?”

“I’m afraid not,” Dorian sighed. “Look, if there’s a nicer section in this Fereldan dump of a castle, Alexius will likely be in it. Fiona told me that Leliana should be somewhere around here, as well… perhaps she has more information, if we can find her?”

“It’s a start of a plan,” Cassandra agreed. “Come, let’s move.”

Several floors of the castle later, Leliana broke the neck of her temporarily distracted tormentors with her thighs, and Dorian, with great respect, unlocked her shackles and helped Cassandra support her until her blood started circulating again. “What’s wrong with her?” The spymaster demanded, watching Avexis slumped against the wall, unblinking.

“She says there’s a freaking dragon,” Sera rolled her eyes.

“There is a dragon,” Cassandra argued instantly. “Avexis does not cry ‘wolf’.”

“A wolf we could handle,” Dorian joked. No one laughed.

“Couldn’t she just… call it off?” Leliana‘s face was harder than it had been in Haven.

“Not unless the magister has lyrium stashed somewhere in those ostentatious robes,” Cassandra narrowed her eyes, “or do you expect her to fuel her magic with her own blood or someone else’s? I suspect she is trying. Why do you think she’s saying so little?”

“I’m not a magister,” Dorian repeated.

Avexis flashed a grateful glance at the Seeker, who patted her arm before Avexis closed herself off to concentrate. “Rats,” she whispered after a moment. “They killed the mabari who would kill the rats. But the rats know a way out to the courtyard.” She shifted herself upright and stood on her own feet. “I can get us into the other half of the castle. Alexius is there, off the main hall. He gets his meals there, and there is an odd door that they can‘t open or chew through. It smells wrong - like magic.” Her eyes shifted to Dorian, “Do you think you could figure it out if…”

“I can figure many things out, given the opportunity.” Dorian tried levity, “I’m feeling a mite peckish. Perhaps we could find the kitchens, on the way?”

_< EotD>_

“I could do with a bit of light reading,” Dorian tried yet again, as they stood in what was once a stately library, and now held blood-spattered books and a multitude of dead bodies.

“Stop. Just… stop,” ordered Leliana.

“Just trying to lighten the tension,” muttered the Altus.

“No, you’re talking to fill the silence,” Leliana countered. “I’d prefer the silence.”

They stripped the bodies in quiet, after that, taking what they needed, and finding another red lyrium shard in a mage’s robes.

Avexis broke the uncomfortable lull, and after her long silence they jerked at the sound of her voice. “I… I think I know where the last shard is. Some of the rats can… hear it? The ones drinking the bad water.” She lifted her head, “We shouldn’t drink the water.”

“The rats again?” Sera asked, a little friendlier since they had made progress. Avexis nodded. “All right. Let’s go kill the bastard that started this. Deserves it, don’t he, for making you feel like shite and screwing your brains up with his nasty dragon?”

“A secret passage, behind the kitchens, next to a stillroom, I think, where the wall is hollow…” Avexis whispered, her eyes still unfocused. “But we have to hurry. The dragon… the dragon knows I’m here. She’s coming. Bringing him. I can‘t stop her, his connection is stronger than mine.” She shivered. “She’s so loud.”

“Who is ‘he‘?” Dorian asked, puzzled.

Avexis shrugged, her face worried and broken, but Leliana answered, “The Elder One. The Elder One is coming. My guards have been talking of his planned visit for days.” The hatred on her scarred face suggested that it had meant something more dire for her personally.

“Then we don’t have much time,” Cassandra ordered, placing her weapon on her hip, still smeared with blood. Sera yanked out several arrows from fallen prey, holding them down with her opposite foot while she pulled. Leliana sheathed a dagger at her hip, and stood upright. “Let’s go kill a magister.”

Dorian winced, but followed.

< _EotD_ >

“I want the world back,” Leliana stated simply, and slit Felix’s throat.

Avexis couldn’t stop Leliana or the dragon. It was all so pointless to try. And yet try she did.

They had to kill Alexius, to get the amulet back. With the dragon’s voice reverberating through her head, a language she could almost understand, amplified as it was by the red lyrium in the castle, Avexis was sloppy, shocking Cassandra several times in an attempt to cause damage to the magister. The Seeker brushed it off without even a curse, however, so Avexis stifled her guilt and kept working, trying to channel her will into a form that would help.

Sera ran out of arrows, and fell to the floor, victim to an arcane bolt. Without a word, Avexis fade-stepped to her side, almost out of mana, and brought her back around. “Thanks,” the Jenny fumbled to her feet, and then smashed a vial of smoke to the ground, and disappeared, to dart around the battlefield and retrieve arrows, she assumed.

She was about to release a ball of fire, when Alexius fell to sound of Sera’s “EAT IT! EAT IT!”

Dorian dove for the magister’s amulet, his face contorted with desperation, “Give me an hour, I’ll…”

Avexis’ stomach sank. “There’s no time left,” she whispered. “He’s already here… we‘ve lost.” The dragon was closer than ever, and it’s voice had turned almost eager, ready to meet whatever creature was so like it, and yet not.

Leliana met her eyes, and then turned to Cassandra and Sera, who nodded, solemnly. “You have as much time as I and Sera have arrows,” she said simply. Sera dove for the rest of her arrows, throwing them into her quiver again.

“I can’t let you die,” Avexis grabbed at her. “The Inquisition needs…”

“The Inquisition needs you,” Leliana shook her arm free of her fingers. “All this happened because we didn’t have you. We’re all dead, unless you keep this from ever happening!” She shoved her in the direction of Dorian. “Go.” The other two exited and shut the door with sound of a coffin closing, and Leliana set herself facing the door, her back to Avexis, ignoring her deliberately.

Avexis closed her eyes, hearing mayhem just outside the door, and focusing on something she could perhaps control. Instead of trying to stop the dragon entirely, she tried distractions, reciting limericks and nonsense in her head, at what amounted mentally as ‘loud’. Outside the door, the noise increased and the doors vibrated, and Avexis lost her connection with the dragon completely, her eyes snapping back open just in time to witness Cassandra’s crumpled body flung across the floor, and then Sera, broken like a twig in the hands of a Terror demon, her mischievous face slack in death.

She choked on bile, and shut her eyes again in denial. They were both dead. For her. Avexis started to pray, as she hadn’t since she woke up, “O Creator, see me kneel: For I walk only where You have blessed. Sing only the words You place in my throat…”

Her own focus on the holy words shattered, as Leliana’s own litany of the Chant raised to the heavens, as the spymaster fought the demons that had killed her friends, but as Avexis moved to join her, swinging her staff down with the intent to slam it into the floor and unleash the strongest lightning spell she knew, Dorian caught her arm. “Move, and you kill us all,” he shouted.

Leliana was dead in that moment. And she did not move to reach her, the guilt screaming in her brain as another person died for the mark on her hand and the slim chance that she could save the world.　

Just as the demons were climbing the dais to reach them, Avexis heard a different menacing rumble - with her ears this time - right outside the open doors. She swallowed, but before she could see the dragon she knew was there, she was being shoved through a glowing green hole.

She thought ‘Why is the Fade green?’, before she landed back on the other side of time, stumbling to her feet, her mind blissfully empty of dragons - and aware that the Breach had to be closed, at any cost, and repeating ‘Sera, Cassandra, Leliana,’ a more holy prayer than any she had ever uttered before,

Numbly, she confronted Alexius, who fell to his knees, and allowed himself to be towed away after his son openly denounced his decisions, hardly seeing any of her surroundings as she saw her friends and Leliana sacrifice themselves, again and again, the dark future replaying on a loop in her head.

The Breach must be closed. At any cost.

And then the King entered, just another dizzying, impossible event in a day of confusion cloaked with mystery. “I wanted to help you,” he told the Grand Enchanter, his voice full of a pain she didn‘t understand and couldn‘t interpret, heard through the pulse pounding in her head. Avexis covered her heart, feeling it hammer in her eardrums. Perhaps she was dying? Had Dorian’s spell injured her? “You’ve made that impossible.”

Dorian nudged her, and her gaze swung to him, confused. “Ask,” he mouthed.

Somehow, through her dizziness and fatigue, she managed, “We still need help with the Breach.” Some more words fell from her lips, but she didn’t remember what they were. The world swayed under her feet. Was it an earthquake? That seemed the sort of disaster the day might end with…

But no, Redcliffe had died in fire, and Fade Green, and red lyrium. The walls still stood a year from now.

“I suggest you take the Inquisition’s offer,” the King - he had freckles, she noted dizzily, through the grey feathers clouding her vision - told the Grand Enchanter from somewhere far away. “It’s better than you’ll get from anyone else.”

Someone - was it Sera? - asked, “All right, Herald?” But before she could answer, she crumpled into a pile on the flagstones. Cassandra shouted for a healer, she felt the Seeker’s hands check her pulse, and then…

Nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orlesian:
> 
> Je suis plus tard - I'm late.
> 
> Il y a un dragon, Cassandra. Mais ce n'est pas la façon dont il devrait être. - It's a dragon, Cassandra. But it's not what it should be.
> 
> Je ne peux pas n’arrete. - I can't stop it.
> 
> Arrêtez! - Stop!


	15. Stereotypes, a Single Altus, and Suspension of Disbelief

Cullen arrived at the Redcliffe Inn, his hands shaking as he pushed into the room that held Avexis. “She hasn’t awakened?”

“I thought you’d send the spymaster, given this was her little project that had gone so wrong. And… no,” Dorian straightened the already impeccably draped counterpane that the Crossroads healer had brought over for the Lady Herald. “But Solas says it is sleep, not… anything more dire. He claims she was ‘just’ exhausted after the stress of the future… he has entered the Fade, in an attempt to locate her himself. But as he claims that she has to be looking for him first, he’s rather unlikely to succeed. Avexis would never seek _him_ out in her dreams…” Cullen blinked in surprise, but managed not to comment. He had thought the two mages were on far better terms. “Still, better him than me - did you know he was a Somniari? I‘ve only heard of a half dozen Dreamers in my entire life - and most of those are dead. To meet one that‘s an apostate… he must have incredible control.” Dorian’s nervous babbling trailed away.

Cullen tried to focus, to answer Dorian‘s many questions. “They did send Leliana. She’s with the King, trying to salvage the Inquisition‘s relationship with my homeland. Ambassador Montilyet figured there was no one better,” Cullen took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “I… haven’t introduced myself, I suppose. I’m…”

“Commander Cullen Rutherford, leader of the Inqusition’s armies, originally from someplace called Honnleath. You love Mabari, like any good Fereldan, and you’re a former Templar. You knit, somewhat better than Sera.” Dorian supplied with a smirk. “And no, I’m not a spy. Avexis… she talks about you and your… nighttime knitting club.”

“She does?” Cullen smiled slightly, and cleared his throat. “I see.”

“I doubt it. She says you’re a good friend,” Dorian sighed. “Avexis’ obliviousness illustrates the old saying ‘Ignorance is bliss.’” Cullen smiled, a little sheepishly and more than a little fondly. Dorian blinked, and looked away, “If you‘re here for information, I can tell you what you need to know about the future. With the Herald out of commission, someone certainly should. The question is… will you believe me?” He glanced up at him, and his eyes were shadowed with despair. “I know what it looks like. My time with the Inquisition might be limited, given my unfortunate connections and country of birth, combined with the savior of us all collapsing after disappearing with me in a spell that only I and Magister Alexius can explain. I want to explain. I can explain. Will you believe me?”

“Avexis trusts you,” Cullen settled into the spare chair, and folded his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’ll trust you. Tell me everything. Please.”

“That’s… surprisingly decent of you,” Dorian picked up Avexis’ hand. “Perhaps the South isn’t as primitive as I thought.” He closed his other hand around hers, and sighed, “Where should I begin?”

“Start with the future,” Cullen advised. “I won’t understand the magic involved, but… I’ll make the others listen when she wakes.”

“You forgot the ‘if‘,” muttered Dorian. “If she wakes. There are no guarantees. But very well. Let’s begin.”

_< EotD>_

“She recruited the mages as allies?” Cullen shook his head, several hours, and a few disruptive interruptions later. “She was so angry at the Grand Enchanter, and about the Tranquil - I find it hard to believe…” Dorian had folded her clothes, straightened her blankets again when she had wrinkled them imperceptibly, moved her pack to at least four different places, including under the bed, made them both - including Cassandra, who, unable to sit still, had tipped it out the open window and marched from the room - a cup of tea, and then failed to drink it while reciting his story. It was sitting on the window ledge now, cold and unappetizing.

“Yes, well, Avexis wasn’t exactly herself. I’ve never seen her look like that, and she said it just before she passed out a bare moment later. The spell I cast was… rough around the edges. I was disoriented, and I was in charge, not just a passenger… I thought perhaps she was having a seizure, until Fiona looked at her. The King was rather upset - he seemed alarmed that he had come off as intolerant and possibly done something to cause her faint. He offered a room at Redcliffe - and you should have seen Arl Teagan’s face - but Cassandra thought the castle’s surroundings would upset her, and had her brought here instead. She’s rather… protective, isn‘t she? Fiona healed her of her minor injuries, probably hoping for mercy. The rest of the mages are packing up and leaving Redcliffe, heading for Haven. You should probably send a raven or something, to warn the Ambassador.” Dorian had barely looked at Cullen since he started. Why was he nervous? “And you should know, she… she claimed that this ‘Elder One’ had a dragon at his beck and call. The rest of us never saw it, but I saw the effect it had on her. She wasn‘t well, even before I scrambled her nerves bringing her home.”

Cullen swallowed, “I see. I… She told me once, what it was like for her when one is nearby. That might explain her… fatigue.”

Dorian sniffed in a superior manner, “Yes, well, that and having to run here, there, and everywhere on minor errands that any halfway intelligent scout could handle. Assuming you have intelligent scouts. Combine that with anxiety-induced insomnia and inadequate comfort on the road and it‘s not surprising she collapsed… the sort of conditions you expect her to work in appall me. We could have all come down with that dreadful plague that wiped out the Mire.”

“Are you a healer?” Cullen leaned forward, in excitement. “The Inquisition is short on healers…”

“Only in the wildest dreams of my mother,” Dorian laughed, and finally looked him in the eye. “No, I’m a Mortalitasi, by study. A necromancer, in Common, or a deathmage, in the rudest vernacular. A disappointment to all, that is I, the scion of House Pavus, at your service,” he nodded his head ironically. “The most use I’ve been so far is asking the Tranquil skulls for a little assistance in finding their murderer. I‘ve asked twelve, and gotten six different answers. Fat lot of good I‘m doing for your cause.”

Cullen shook his head, “I’m not disappointed. You saved her life. You saved all our lives.” His face softened, looking at the willowy woman under the blankets. “You did something no one else could, getting her back here.” He looked up at Dorian and half-smiled, “You’re a hero, Altus Pavus.”

It was Dorian’s turn to blink in confusion, “How did you know I’m an altus?”

Cullen laughed, “Avexis talks while we knit.” He held out his hand, and Dorian shook it. “Welcome to the Inquisition, Pavus.”

“Oh, please, call me Dorian or I’ll think you’re talking about my father,” Dorian blustered, blushing a little before taking his hand. “It’s delightful to meet you, Commander Cullen.” He lifted an eyebrow flirtatiously, “So… are you seeing anyone?” Cullen sputtered, his eyes drifting to the woman under the blankets. “Well, it was worth asking. There was always the chance you haven‘t said anything for reasons that would suit me perfectly.”

_< EotD>_

Avexis woke up, groggy and confused, the roars she had been hearing in the Fade morphing into more gentle, familiar snoring. “Ou… where am I?” She sat up, noting the solid walls and two men across the room, slumped into chairs. Dorian curled up like a cat in the easy chair with his head resting on the wingback, and Cullen sprawled out on a desk chair, legs apart, with a tense face that suggested his dreams weren‘t pleasant either, his head resting on the back of the chair at an uncomfortable angle. Her eyes followed the source of the noise to find Cassandra laying on her back on the rug, hands crossed over her stomach with a pillow over her face. The sky outside the window was dark, and rain hissed softly against the panes. Lightning flashed, outlining the distant peak of Kinloch Hold on the other side of Lake Calenhad. “Redcliffe? I‘m still in Redcliffe?” That explained the roaring - the dragon in the Rebel Queen’s Valley was just a boat ride away, around the point.

Too close. She needed to get away.

Cullen jolted awake at the sound of her voice. “Ladybird?” He asked, relief in his voice. “You woke up.”

“What are you doing here? How long have I been asleep?”

“It took me two days, riding from Haven, and I‘ve been here for… 12 hours?” Cullen rose and stretched, wincing. “How do you feel?”

“Confused.” Avexis glanced again at the other man. “Why is Dorian still here?”

“He wouldn’t leave, even to eat. Cassandra brought us something. You‘re at the Gull and Lantern.”

“He just didn’t want to camp in the rain.“ Avexis frowned, “You wouldn’t leave either?”

“Well, I was worried that some of the more… belligerent of the local residents would try something. They aren’t precisely happy with some of your decisions. Cassandra agreed you were in danger, so we stayed put,” Cullen rubbed his neck, and it popped audibly back into place. “Ouch. Are you hungry?”

“Famished,” she hissed. “Is there anything? It seems… late. I probably have some rations in my pack…”

Cullen nodded at a covered plate on a small table next to the bed. “Cold Fereldan turnip stew is hardly appetizing, but…”

Avexis grabbed the tray, set it in her lap and buried a spoon in her face. “I hate turnip stew,” she mumbled around the utensil. “Why is all the food in Ferelden grey?” She found the bread next to it and sighed with pleasure before tearing into it, slowing down only slightly. “So… what happens now?” She talked around the food, not bothering to swallow first.

“Well, the mages are on their way back to Haven, as allies,” Cullen scowled, but his voice was gentle.

“Allies?” Avexis shook her head, and took another bite. “They‘ve agreed to help with the Breach, then?”

“You offered them an alliance, just before you passed out on the floor in front of the King of Ferelden,” Cullen coughed, at the surprised look in her wide eyes, “That’s according to Dorian. Sera, and Cassandra echo that much, but they’re rather... upset. Leliana approves, at least. She was up here earlier, and had a great measure of distrust for the story Dorian told us. She… her questions were rather intrusive, I’m afraid. Another reason for your… friend to stay put. She doesn’t approve of your Altus. It is rather unbelievable. Time travel, evil magisters, a new god called the ‘Elder One’ and…”

“The dragon,” Avexis set down her spoon to grab at his sleeve. “Cullen, he had a dragon. You have to increase defenses at Haven. Please. You have to believe me. It felt… wrong, even for a high dragon. I’ve only ever heard one dragon like that before, and it was… just before the Blight began. La miséricorde de Créateur*, please believe…”

“Shh, I believe you, Ladybird,” Cullen soothed and took her hand, detaching it from his sleeve gently. “I’ve already sent off a raven to Rylen. He might not take me seriously, but he‘ll follow orders,” He dropped her hand abruptly, realizing what he had done. “Not that Haven could possibly defend itself against such a thing, but… we can try.”

Avexis picked up her spoon, again, “And all the rest of it? Does Leliana believe that? Empress Celene’s assassination? A demon army?”

“Not really,” he admitted. “The only part she truly believed was that she sacrificed herself for you. She might come to believe the rest, in time…”

“We don’t have time,” Avexis slammed the spoon down onto the tray, appetite lost. “We have a year. A single year. Harvestmere, 9:42 Dragon. That’s what Fiona said, while we were there. We don’t have time to convince everyone that Dorian and I are telling the truth. We’ve got to seal the Breach, immediately, and that’s probably why I offered an alliance to the mages - we don‘t have time to try to negotiate with the Templars now. I’m sorry… really, I am. But we have a list of other priorities - we need to send messengers to the Empress, warning her. We have to find out about this demon army, and how and why and _who_ …” she flung her covers aside to slide to the floor, only to have her legs give out, and have to clutch at Cullen‘s coat.

He supported her, looking down at her worried face. “We’re not going to be able to do any of that in the middle of the night, Avexis.”

“On the contrary, you can do just about anything worth doing in the middle of the night,” Dorian had woken up, his hair pressed upwards where it had rested on the chair.  Cassandra sat, leaning on her hands, grumpy and narrow-eyed, staring at them in what appeared to be an embrace to the untrained eye. “You’ve made a fine start, Commander. Please, don’t let me interrupt.”

“Commander,” Cassandra flushed even as her tone carried a warning.

Avexis let go of him, and straightened. “It’s not what it looks like,” she tried, putting her hands behind her back.

“How disappointing,” Dorian murmured. “Someone ought to take advantage of the situation, since it‘s not going to be me.” His eyes flicked between them. Avexis glanced at Cullen, noting his flush.

“It had better not be,” Cassandra’s eyes sparkled though, and her mouth twisted with humor. “Perhaps Avexis should be allowed to get dressed without… company?”

“Dressed?” Avexis looked down at herself and paled, “Excuse me, who changed me into a nightdress?”

“I did,” Dorian twinkled at her. “Much to the Commander’s extreme…” Avexis picked up a pillow and tossed it at him. It fell harmlessly to the floor. “You were a filthy mess, Herald. Even a Fereldan establishment didn‘t want to have mud and worse on their sheets…”

“Get out!” she turned to Cullen, and in a more polite manner, requested, “You, too, Cullen. Please. I’ll… be downstairs shortly and we can ride to the closest Inquisition camp…”

“Why does he merit a ‘please’?” whined Dorian.

Cassandra frowned, “The healer and I changed your clothes. You shouldn’t believe the magister.”

“I’m not a magister!” Dorian threw up his hands. “Fine. I’m gone. With no, ‘Thank you, Dorian, for saving your life in a nightmare of a future. Thank you for transporting me back into the appropriate time. Thank you for watching over me with the devotion you might show a younger sister if your parents had been foolish enough to have one…”

Avexis laughed at him. “Thank you, Dorian. For all of it, except the sister part. Even you aren’t that melodramatic. Now, get out.” Cullen had already exited, hiding a small smile, and Cassandra followed him.

Dorian started to go, only to shove his foot back in the door at the last minute. “You’re right, by the way. He is definitely Hot Templar. And I already found out he‘s single - and most sadly, not gay. What a waste.  We could have made beautiful mistakes together.” Avexis opened the door and then slammed it on his foot. “So the little rabbit bites?”

Avexis growled, “Don’t call me rabbit,” and did it again.

“Fine, fine, if you don‘t call me ‘Vint‘,” Dorian laughed. “I’m going. Wear the purple shirt. It brings out your eyes. He’ll notice what you look like, if not what you wear, trust me.”

“It’s not like that,” Avexis started.

“The Void it isn’t,” Dorian shook his head. “Gorgeous girl, you must be blind. He’s crazy about you. He let me talk about you for hours, with a dazy, dreamy look on his face.” He stuck his arm through the door, when she tried to close it again. “I’m serious. He watched you sleep, and looked like there was no where he’d rather be. He’s long gone.” He looked rather envious, as he removed his arm. “What I wouldn’t give for someone to look at me that way. Don‘t waste it, my friend.”

Avexis managed at last to close the door on the mage, and then leaned up against it for a minute, thinking. Then she shook her head, her face serious, and went to find her clothes.

She wore the purple shirt. It was the only thing clean.

_< EotD>_

“Allies,” sighed Cullen, “You had to offer them an alliance.” He paced around the War Room in Haven's Chantry, rubbing his neck as if it still ached from sleeping in the chair days prior. The books on the low shelf shook as his boots hit the floor, the tiles underneath rocking loose from their mortar. The others watched him pace with varying degrees of sympathy.

“I don’t remember doing it,” protested Avexis, watching his other hand shake where it rested on his sword’s hilt.

“An increasingly convenient excuse,” Cassandra noted, mouth pressed together, possibly to keep her lips still. “Still, you gained assistance for the Breach, which is more than the rest of us managed together.”

“I have Libertarian mages insisting on better accommodations, better food, better everything,” Cullen fumed. “I’ve referred them to Seeker Pentaghast…”

“I told them to deal with it,” the Seeker confirmed. “They sleep where the rest of us sleep, they eat what the rest of us eat. I received a positive response from the leader of the Aequitarians at least…” Avexis didn’t bother to stifle her obscenity, “But the Isolationists have sent up their own tents somewhere in the woods beyond the Chantry, and have requested only the most minimal of supplies. I worry about the lack of oversight, but…”

“We can’t go back on our word now,” Josie pointed out, “It would make us look inconsistent.”

“Haven’t the mages suffered enough?” Leliana stated softly. They all turned towards Avexis, waiting for her response.

Avexis wrinkled her forehead, the scar bunching up in worry. “Why are you all acting like this is my problem? I found help for the Breach. I did my best… and then I slept for two days. You lot should either be tracking down the Templars or planning the assault on the Breach itself. Or looking into the damn dragon!”

“Already done,” Cullen grinned, but there was a painful line between his eyebrows that suggested he had a headache. “We sent a team of scouts and the Chargers out to Therinfall Redoubt while you slept, and the mages have organized themselves-”

“Well, that’s the biggest shock yet,” muttered Avexis, to Cassandra’s amused snort and Leliana’s critical look. “I’m surprised the Lucrosians haven’t tried to negotiate payment for their services.”

“They have.” Cassandra‘s voice clipped sternly. “They get paid what our soldiers are paid. The Aequitarians cheered, and then I was approached about the possibility of mage advancement in the Inquisition army, and equivalent ranks. More work for the Commander, I‘m afraid.” Avexis tipped her head back to look at the copper tiles on the ceiling and sighed at the dry impatience of the Seeker.

“As I was saying, the mages have organized themselves into a team of their most experienced Enchanters and Senior Enchanters. Solas has agreed to act as their spokesman, since the Grand Enchanter has… lost much of her credibility,” Cullen finished tactfully. “A small but vocal group of Isolationist and Loyalist mages are insisting she be tried for crimes against the College, but… we don’t actually have any authority. No one does.”

“Vivienne,” Avexis finished under her breath. “Two royals says she tackles me as soon as I leave the room and requests the redirection of some of Cullen’s remaining Templars to follow ‘certain mages’ around. Just the ones who pose a threat to her ascent to the top of the Circle, naturally.” She sighed, “I hate Circle politics.”

“I’ll take that bet,” Cassandra agreed. Cullen frowned. “She’s going to want all the Commander’s Templars, Avexis, not some.” She cleared her throat. “In my opinion it's unnecessary. The mages, after speaking to me, will likely be on their best behavior for the foreseeable future.” She smiled with smug satisfaction. “I have that effect on Senior Enchanters.” She flushed slightly.

“Did Galyan have you interfere…” Avexis began, surprised.

“Don’t ask,” Cassandra ordered bluntly.

“They aren’t ‘my’ Templars,” Cullen coughed, trying to bring them back on track once more. “But we are ready to seal the Breach, whenever you are ready, Herald.”

“Wait,” Avexis took a deep breath, “What are you all doing about the dragon?”

“We have no evidence there is a dragon.” Leliana folded her arms close to her chest and glowered out from under her hood. “My… friend assures me there is no Blight. No archdemon has emerged. There are ways to tell.”

“I’ve increased the sentries on the perimeter,” Cullen offered, almost apologetically. “And we have an evacuation plan set up, for everyone to take shelter in the Chantry. It’s… it’s the only structure that might hold up against…” he shook his head, “It’s not perfect, but it’s all we have.”

Avexis furrowed her forehead, “There has to be something we can…”

“If there is a dragon, you’ll know before any of us will,” Leliana sighed, “Fine. I will send scouts out to stare at the sky, will that make you happy?”

“What about the assassination of Empress Celene?” Avexis pushed.

“It might not even happen,” Leliana argued, “And a demon army is utter nonsense. How would they even try to control such a thing? It would be chaos!”

“We don’t have the kind of support necessary to make the Empress listen to us,” Josie offered softly. “We need more sway. Perhaps if the Templars respond to our attempts to contact them…”

“We don’t have time to wait for them. We have to move, and move now,“ Avexis sighed, “Thank you all for… trying, I suppose.”

“Seal the Breach first,” Cassandra advised. “Worry about this ‘Elder One’ later. One thing at a time.”

“I’d be more than happy to do that, if the world would let me,” Avexis fumed, “It keeps throwing everything at me at once. First the mark, then the Breach, then the rifts everywhere, then the Elder One…” her voice broke, “And now a dragon that might be an archdemon. I can only take so much at a time, Cassandra.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> La miséricorde de Créateur - Maker's Mercy (ain't it pretty?!)


	16. Templars, Mages, and Mental Armories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I need to put up a trigger warning for rape, as Avexis brings up, in passing but without details, her experiences with her ex-lover, which is dubious consent at best, and non-consensual at worst.

That night she found herself going back to the rock, without knitting or other occupation, far earlier than usual. She could still hear a distant thread of music combined with Sera’s raucous laughter coming from the tavern, and people were still moving around the camp, finishing their nighttime routines - probably trying not to think about the morrow.

She lay down and faced upward, lost in thought, watching Draconis creep slowly across the sky, wondering what she could do about the dragon, about Dorian‘s place with the Inquisition, and whether she would even survive trying to close the Breach at all. And what to do about…

“There you are,” a familiar voice interrupted her fretting. She smiled, but didn’t otherwise react. “Didn’t expect to see you this early.”

“Too much rest the past few days. I‘m not even tired.”

“Yes, well, until the Breach is sealed, I apparently have some time on my hands.” Cullen shoved himself up the first step of the rock, scrambling upwards to reach her side. “Hard to plan for stopping the civil war in Orlais until we know if the Breach can be closed at all. Not to mention the unpredictability of an army based on demon recruits. I‘ve checked my resources - there is no precedent. Dorian told me he‘d write to an old historian friend - to see if the Imperium is familiar with the practice.”

“We’ll know tomorrow about the Breach at least.” Her voice was soft, nearly inaudible.

“Tomorrow.” Cullen agreed and settled himself next to her, hands pillowed behind his head. “It’s chilly. Too much dampness in the air. Clouds will move in, and there will be more snow tomorrow night, I would bet on it.”

“Speaking of wagers, Cassandra won,” Avexis sighed, and thunked her head back against the rock in frustration. “Vivienne insists there will be abominations with the mages here. She wanted all of your Templars to follow the heads of the different fraternities around - as if they were likely to succumb after their years of experience. It’s apprentices and the inexperienced who…” she moved her head, shaking it against the rock. “I told her to - what was Varric’s phrase - ‘stuff it?’ You have other uses for the Templars under your command. We don‘t have enough people.”

“They’re not ‘mine‘,” grumbled Cullen, “No more than the other soldiers are ‘mine’, anyway. And experience has taught me there’s probably going to be at least one abomination…”

Avexis rolled over to look at him, propping herself up on her side. “I know you don’t like talking about the Blight…”

“I’ve never talked about the Blight,” Cullen shifted to face her. A scant foot of distance lay between them. It was a little… distracting, Avexis noted, remembering what Dorian had said. She shivered, but for once, she wasn’t cold. “But you must have heard at least a few rumors about Kinloch… and Kirkwall was no secret the Chantry could brush under the rug.”

Avexis shook her head, “I was involved in training for my Harrowing before, and in an… affair during the Blight,” she admitted, warily, “that took up all my attention at the time. I was already Tranquil when Kirkwall‘s troubles worsened.”

Cullen asked quietly, “If I change the subject, will you accuse me of prevarication?”

“I’m not going to make you talk about anything,” Avexis rolled backwards to face up again. “I don’t like talking about Frenic, and you‘ve had plenty of opportunity. The least I can do is grant you the same courtesy.”

“Then tell me about this affair,” Cullen said. Avexis felt a slight tug on a tendril of her hair, spread out against the rock and shivered again. “It must have been something. Who was he? Was he your…”

Avexis flipped back over, her eyes like uncanny jewels in the darkness. “Was he my… what? My lover? Isn‘t that implied when using ‘affair‘ in Common?”

“Well, yes, but I also was curious about…”

“Commander, are you asking who my first was?” Avexis gave up trying to be coy and laughed. “Such a personal question. I‘m the one who asks uncomfortable questions.” Her eyes sparked.

“You don’t have to answer,” he grinned and she relaxed. He didn‘t intend to judge her. “You didn’t bring your knitting. I thought you might need a distraction better than setting heels.”

“The future ruined my socks, the first time I wore them. I‘ve started the second pair, but who knows when I‘ll be able to finish? The future isn‘t certain,” Avexis sniffed, looking wary for a moment more, but sighed, “No, he wasn’t my first. He was… serious, though, for the Circle. We met at Montsimmard, right after my transfer, and it was…” she shrugged against the rock, shifting the snow into a little pile above her shoulders. “C'était fou*. I was crazy. I was young. I was wild - newly Harrowed and convinced I was invincible after what I had accomplished in the Fade. We were all over each other, every chance we got. I snuck out after curfew to meet him, in the worst places you can imagine. We went at it fast and hard in every broom closet in the tower, every semi-private corner. Everywhere but in our rooms, because we both shared accommodations. All secret, of course. So everyone knew, naturally.”

“I know,” Cullen said lowly. “There wasn’t another option, in the Circle. Before I became Knight-Captain I used to switch out with my roommate, Samson, to provide opportunities, when… and sometimes we’d have different patrols, different duties that sent us out of town. And he‘d go to the Blooming Rose, but I couldn‘t bring myself to-” he stopped talking, his forehead wrinkled.

“It lasted up until I elected Tranquility,” Avexis finished cautiously, when he didn‘t keep speaking. “Before him… well, we start young in the Circle. I was too young. But so was the boy I was with. He claimed to not be a virgin, but I strongly suspect that was a lie. He was just a bit too enthusiastic, looking back, for…”

Cullen choked, “Avexis, he probably just couldn’t believe his good luck and didn‘t want you to change your mind. Half of the White Spire probably wanted you. Who wouldn‘t?”

“Flatterer.”

“It‘s the simple truth.”

Avexis snorted, “At sixteen I was a flat-chested stick of a girl with a reputation for piety, and huge eyes that glowed in the dark. They‘re scary.”

“I like the way your eyes glow. But sixteen, huh?” Cullen sounded impressed. “You beat me by two years.”

“Sixteen,” she confirmed. “What about you? Who was the lovely lady, if we’re going to butt into each other’s secret pasts?”

Cullen smiled, “She was a recruit at the same time as me. We only… you know. Once. I fumbled too much for her, I think. She was slightly older, and definitely more experienced. After that, a few other women, new-made knights and mages, made passes at me - I always wondered if she talked to the other female recruits.”

“Of course she did,” Avexis scoffed, “I told my girlfriends everything at that age. And giggled during the confession.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“Well, it wasn’t about you,” she countered, meeting his eyes critically, “so you can’t take it personally. It’s a good sign, if they came asking. I bet you were good, despite your - how did you say it - ’fumbling’.”

“I doubt it,” Cullen sighed, “my mother raised me to be a gentleman, and so I merely followed her instructions.” His cheeks darkened under the moonlight. “She was generous with me. I wanted to offer her the same.”

“An excellent start,” Avexis’ eyes flashed and turned away. “So many men get - what’s the phrase? - ah, yes, ‘butt-hurt’ when a woman knows what they want and when. Some weird dominance thing, I suppose.”

Cullen sputtered, “Where did you learn that one?”

“Dorian and Sera were comparing Tevene and Ferelden and Common idioms for my benefit,” Avexis sounded proud. “I remembered that one of Sera‘s, because it’s so expressive.” She paused, “But I bet you were pretty good, if you did as she asked.”

“It was over too fast for her - I had to help in other - ways,” Cullen protested and then cleared his throat, “I can’t believe we’re talking about this.”

“You started it. Besides, I’ve already had a similar conversations with Sera and Dorian, and I‘ve known you longer,” Avexis shifted to her stomach, and pillowed her hands under her chin. “When the mages made passes at you, did you take them up on their offers?”

“No!”

“Such a gentleman. Why not?”

“We weren‘t supposed to fraternize…” Cullen stammered, before narrowing his eyes, “Avexis. You’re trying to embarrass me.”

“Maybe. Dorian says you’re cute when you’re embarrassed. Do you blame me for wanting to see what it would take?”

“You know what I’m like. You asked me about vows of _celibacy_.”

“It was darker that night. I can see in the dark a bit, but not that well. I’m not Dalish. Dorian says you blush a lovely shade of rose.”

“So do you!”

“You think I’m lovely when I blush?“ Avexis smirked, throwing his words back at him, “Shh, Commander, someone will hear you, and Bruce will scandalize all of Haven with tales of what the Commander tells the Herald at night.”

“You’re a demon,” Cullen laughed.

“I might be,” Avexis agreed. “Never have remembered a fucking thing about the Fade.” She sighed. “So tell me, about this arrangement you had.” She played with the idea of asking if he was interested in another - before drawing herself up short with his response.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because she was a nice person, who died too young, and I want to respect her memory, not laugh about how awkward we were when we were trying to tell each other that we just wanted to sleep together, not… court.” Cullen said the last word very quietly indeed. “We weren’t… attached to each other, that way. It was imminently practical, a way of releasing stress - which we had a lot of in Kirkwall. Plus, it was secret. If our Knight-Commander had found out… well, I wouldn‘t have made Knight-Captain, I can tell you that. We might have ended up on the streets.” His voice was rough. “It happened to all too many Templars, under Meredith. She didn‘t encourage attachments. Not in the mages, not in her Templars.”

“I’m sorry,” Avexis shoved herself upright. “I didn’t mean to insult you. Or her. It was an intelligent solution. I rather wish I had gone that route myself, considering what happened.”

“What happened?” Cullen asked, very quietly.

“He… was possessive,” Avexis shivered again. “After I caught him with… well, it didn’t end well. I didn’t even realize how bad it was until… recently.”

“I’ve never known a Circle mage to have a problem with…”

“Who said he was a mage?” Cullen sat up, shocked, as Avexis jumped up and babbled, “Well, early day tomorrow. Marching up the mountain, might even die, if this doesn’t work the way it’s supposed to. Sorry about intruding into your private life.”

“Avexis,” Cullen grabbed her hand. “Stop apologizing. We’re friends. I’m sorry you went through that. Obviously, he wasn’t worthy of you. Sit back down?”

She did, looking guarded. “Why?”

“Because you’re one up on me regarding embarrassing moments,” Cullen cleared his throat, scanning his memories for something that would put her back at ease, would keep her there, with him. “Once, Ser Heloise told me she thought about Teryn Loghain when she was having sex with me. She had a thing for Fereldan men.”

“Oh, Sweet Maker,” Avexis choked, “A young Loghain, I hope. The portraits I’ve seen he didn’t age well. I might be sick.”

“I have no idea,” Cullen admitted, “It didn‘t really matter, the way we were using each other. I wasn‘t thinking of her, that‘s for certain.”

“Who did you think of?” Avexis asked, leaning in, fascinated, before covering her mouth, “Ignore that question. Too personal.”

Cullen snickered, willing to be embarrassed, as long as she would stay. “Neria Surana.”

“Merde,” Avexis’ mouth fell open, “The Grey Warden?”

Cullen shrugged, “She was Harrowed at Kinloch. She tried to get me alone once. I was an idiot and didn’t take her up on it, despite the massive torch I was carrying at the time.”

“Does Leliana know?! Does the KING?” Avexis paused, “Non, I’d worry more about Leliana. The King might forgive you, but Leliana never would.” She raised an eyebrow, “How big a torch?”

Cullen flushed up to his forehead, and dodged the question, “I have no doubt she does, if the Warden gossiped like you. And it would explain why she made a point of telling me she was still taken, the other day. Nothing happened between us, but… are we even now?”

“You didn’t answer about your torch. Don’t think I didn’t notice. But… I think you’re ahead of me by far.” Avexis wrapped her arms around her knees. “I’ll have to think of something worse. There‘s bound to be something…” her words trailed off. “Non, I’ve nothing. The Hero of Ferelden as a fantasme sexuel* is better than anything I could confess.” She glanced at him, “That’s sexual… dream, I think?”

“Fantasy, not dream. But thanks,” Cullen’s voice was dry. “That helps, a lot.”

“I could name people I find attractive?” Avexis said tentatively, “I don’t blame Warden Commander Surana for sticking with her King, despite Fereldan racism. His freckles are darling, and he‘s so tall…” her voice was a little dreamy. “I do like a tall man.”

“Not helpful at all,” Cullen yawned.

“All right then,” Avexis sighed, “I’ve something embarrassing to tell you, and then I’ll let you go to sleep.” She swallowed, and took the plunge, “I find you attractive.”

Cullen’s eyebrow raised, “You do. Just like that.” The corner of his mouth twitched.

“You’d have to be blind not to find you attractive,” Avexis frowned, “Don’t you have a mirror?”

“A shaving mirror with a crack down the middle.”

“That explains the stubble. You‘re so disciplined in other ways, I wondered,“ Avexis stood up, and Cullen ran a self-conscious hand under his chin. “Come on. I have a big one in my cabin. Cassandra is standing watch tonight, hoping that I would sleep if she wasn’t snoring. I hope she doesn‘t move out, thinking my insomnia is her fault. I don‘t want to be alone.”

“I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” Avexis rolled her eyes, “Cullen…”

“Avexis.”

“Just come on. I’m inviting you,” she tugged him forward, dragging him down the slope until he had no choice but to stand. “Just for a minute, to have me demonstrate at great personal embarrassment what I find so fucking attractive.”

“Maker’s Breath, you don’t have to humiliate yourself… it‘s not a contest.”

“Maker’s Breath - what kind of a curse is that?“ Avexis gritted her teeth, and tugged harder, “You know, just once before I die, I want to hear you cuss!” She smirked, “Of course, I’d also like an answer about the size of your torch…”

“I curse when it’s appropriate. This is not that time.” Cullen trailed behind her weakly, scowling at sentries who turned and pretended not to see him being dragged away. “And don’t be ridiculous.”

It felt like they had to pass in front of every sentry station in Haven to reach her cabin. Avexis thrust him inside and turned up a lamp. Cullen glanced out the darkened window, hoping that the watchmen were actually doing their job, instead of watching him. “Assis-toi*.” She pulled out the chair in front of her small desk and the larger mirror on top of it. “Right here. I’m going feature by feature. Organized, like a Tranquil. You might as well get comfortable. We‘ll be here a while. Tu es Templier Beau*,” she added under her breath.

“This is ridiculous. I have…”

“You said you had nothing to do tonight. No excuses, Cullen.”

“I should go.”

“Oh, you do blush,” Avexis squealed. “Dorian was right! He said you caught him looking in the bathhouse and… oh, I bet he can tell me the size of your…”

“STOP. I do not want to think about Dorian while you do this.” He sighed, “Get on with it, if you must.”

Avexis framed his face with her hands, making him look up to meet her reflection. Her hands were cold against his warm cheeks. “First, your hair is…” she sighed, “It’s lovely. Even Sera thinks so.” She couldn’t resist, and drug her fingers through it. “Softer than I thought, too,” she added. “I was sure you used something to keep it tidy.”

Cullen didn’t reply, just looked at her in the mirror with an odd look on his face.

“You have the broadest shoulders, when you‘re not slumping,“ Avexis kept going, failing to look him in the eyes again, focused on her task. “Your jaw is delectable.” She traced it with chilly fingers to his mouth, “and you have the nicest smile. Like you want to laugh at everyone but won‘t let yourself, because you‘re much too mature for anything of the sort,” she mock deepened her voice to try to match his timber, if not his accent, and let her fingers run back up his jaw. He grabbed her hand to stop it.

“Tickles,” he let her hand go, when he saw her surprise. “That… tickled.”

“I beg your pardon,” she said softly, letting her hand fall to his shoulder. “I… this isn’t… appropriate, is it? I shouldn‘t have…” She took a shaky breath and twitched her marked hand away from his hair, where it still rested. She folded her fingers into the palm, trying to remember what the hair had felt like. Soft, warm… “I suppose now that I’m here, we should go to bed. To sleep,” she stammered, flushing red, “I mean… I should. Not we. Stupid pronouns. Common has too many.”

“Yes,” Cullen found the single remaining thread of sanity and held on for dear life. “Yes, you should. The Breach, and… all the rest.” He stood, but Avexis didn’t move away, looking up at him with great confusion as he looked down at her with that inscrutable expression. “Avexis, I…” he bent his head, and then jerked it back. Avexis’ head spun. Was he thinking about… “Good night.”

“Bonsoir,” she said softly. Cullen opened the door and then turned back.

“Avexis, in the interest of staying one up on you in the embarrassing confessions contest, I should admit… I find you attractive, too.” He grinned weakly back at her and then rolled his shoulders back drawing himself up to his full height, instead of slumping slightly like he normally did. Her eyes traced them and flicked back up to his face. He was taller than the King, she noted dizzily. “Sleep well,” he added, more formally, and left, closing the door softly behind him.

Avexis swallowed. And then she tried very hard not to smile.

Dorian hadn’t been entirely wrong. She thought… she thought he was going to kiss her.

She wouldn’t have stopped him if he had. She sunk onto her bed, the little smile breaking through, despite her best efforts. There wouldn’t be much sleep tonight, for a different reason than the usual.

She hit her pillow. “Avexis, you are a bad, bad girl.” She rolled over and curled up in a ball. “You’ve been through this before.” She screwed her eyes up painfully tight. “Surmonter*, Avexis. This can only end badly.”

 

_< EotD>_

 

Cullen couldn’t think about even attempting to sleep, and so marched around the camp looking for Cassandra, replaying the conversation in his head, cataloguing every touch and phrase like the weapons in the shed they were using as an armory, for use in the upcoming battle of words. He found the Seeker arguing with a forward scout, who had seen something odd in the woods a little while ago, and wasn’t sure if reporting it to the Nightingale was worth disturbing the spymaster‘s rest.

“It might’ve been a bear reared back on its hind legs, but there‘s been no bears anywhere near us, so far,” the scout wimbled. “But Katie’s missing, and she was supposed to switch off with me an hour ago… I dunno, it‘s probably nothing. She‘s not exactly punctual, is Katie. Starts picking elfroot and such and wanders off… I mean, we‘re all supposed to do it, I know, but most of us pay better attention…”

“We can’t be too careful, even if it was only a bear,” Cassandra answered sternly. “Report your missing comrade, in any case. I wonder at your hesitance. Commander?” She turned her attention away from the scout dismissively. “Problems?”

“May I have a word?” He cleared his throat, “In private.”

“Of course,” Cassandra glared at the scout who had failed to obey. He backed away to Leliana’s tent slowly. “What did you require, Commander?”

“I… Avexis told me she found me attractive, tonight.” He cleared his throat and whispered, “I wanted to ask you, if, in your opinion, that meant she was interested in… starting something.”

Cassandra glared at him, “You interrupted a discussion of our outer defenses on the eve of our assault on the Breach to discuss your attraction to Avexis?” Her voice was too loud. He shushed her, urgently. The scout raised both eyebrows. Cullen scowled at him, and the scout looked away. “This is inappropriate, Commander.” But she smiled, whispering, “And wonderful. I’ve been hoping she would admit something of the kind…” she pulled him away from Leliana’s tent and the nosy scout. “What did she say?”

“She… touched my face,” he mumbled. “My lips.” His hand twitched, trying not to echo the touch from earlier.

Cassandra sighed, “That’s roman…” she braced herself, editing her comment. “Yes. Yes, I’d say that she was flirting with you.” Cassandra narrowed her eyes, “Did you touch her?”

“No!” Cassandra shushed him. “Well, I touched her hair,” he admitted. “And her hand, when she tickled my jaw.” He cleared his throat, “So, do I have your permission to… approach her?”

“No.” Cassandra turned away, a smile dancing about her mouth. “Let her approach you. From the sound of things it won’t be long. Until then, however, I’m sure you’ll find ways…”

Cullen groaned, “Cassandra, this is unfair. If she‘s attracted, and I‘m attracted, why can‘t we just…”

“Because she’s been hurt. She needs to decide to take the risk, without you pressuring her. It‘s possible she doesn‘t realize that she‘s even flirting. She didn‘t realize it with Blackwall, after all,” Cassandra cleared her throat. “You can be persuasive, when you want to be, Cullen. I’ve seen you motivate your people. I don’t want her to feel like she has to make a decision. I’m sure she’ll make up her mind, soon. Be patient.” Cassandra marched away, back towards Leliana’s tent, apparently to continue berating the scout still lingering outside.

Cullen was left with a row of neatly stacked weapons in the armory of his mind, and unable to use a single one in his defense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fantasme sexuel - sexual fantasy. You've all gone your whole lives without knowing this charming tidbit, haven't you? Wah ha ha ha. My shitty Orlesian gets even worse later on in this story. And yes, I can say 'Excuse my shitty Orlesian.' This story is doing wonders for my French, actually. I'm listening to a ton of French folk music while I write. I recommend 'L'Amour De Moi', by the Mediaeval Baebes, if you're interested.
> 
> Assis-toi - Sit. And yes, Avexis is making a Fereldan Dog Lord joke. It would have been hilarious if Cullen spoke Orlesian. Wasted. (Author sighs like Sera.)
> 
> Tu es Templier Beau. - You are Hot (Handsome) Templar.
> 
> Surmonter - Get over it, overcome


	17. Turning Pages, Leaving Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now for something a little different... and where this story goes into headcanons and AU territory. Again, everything I'm posting here can be backed up somewhere in canon - Bioware might not have intended it this way, but damn it, they wrote it first. ;)
> 
> Let's have some fun, shall we? AND COMMENT! We're both so giddy over where this story is going it's hard to contain ourselves. We want to answer questions and have debates. If you make a good argument, you might even change how something gets written.
> 
> We don't bite.
> 
> Chapter Title inspired by Rob Thomas' 'Pieces'

It almost felt like the magic Frenic had forced her to use, Avexis mused distantly, relieved that her old scars from that trauma weren’t rising to the surface at this most critical of moments. The amount of power was certainly similar, as the mages fed their will through her and she funneled it into the mark and up into the Breach. She felt powerful, focused - if the magic hadn’t been shunted out of her body by the parasitic mark, she might have been scared of what she was capable of. As it was, she heard distant whispers from some unknown dragons far beyond her usual range, and the wrong rumbling of the Elder One’s companion as she shook with power and the effort of concentration.

There were a lot of dragons in Southern Thedas, she realized, shakily, their voices separating into streams of mental noise, individual and distinct. Several were too close for comfort - and the one was far too familiar. They heard her, and she felt a dozen or more intelligences cross her mind, intrigued. She was defenseless - and ignored them, other than mentally noting their approximate directions.

The Breach was what was important. The rest had to wait for…

The Breach snapped closed, definitively, and the dragons’ vocal interest faded as the mages, one by one, withdrew their will from hers. Her consciousness shrinking back to normal levels with the separation of her colleagues, Avexis fell to her knees, smiling in relief at Cassandra, Solas just behind her, his own face smugly pleased.

Avexis nodded at him cordially. It was everyone’s victory, she told herself firmly. She could afford to be pleasant.

Healers approached her, and she waved them off, towards the lyrium imbibing mages, some of whom were shaking - a common aftermath after a major working. There was nothing larger than this. Possibly there hadn’t been such a joint spell cast since the Fourth Blight - if then. In another life, she might have felt honored, to be the focus of such an achievement. “I am well, see- see to them.”

The music of a celebrating Haven greeted the group as they descended the mountain, Solas inclining his head towards her with his trademark condescending approval before he accepted a glass of something amber and alcoholic. Cullen was back, discussing something that looked critical with Josie in front of the Chantry. She managed to smile at him before she pulled her eyes away to watch Minaeve dancing around the bonfire Varric had built up next to his tent. It was good to see the younger mage happy and celebrating.

Minaeve reminded her of herself, long ago, before her Harrowing and the mistakes that had come afterward.

Everyone was happy and celebrating. Except for her. There was too much left to do. But one thing had to be addressed now… before someone else brought it up. Roderick, perhaps, or one of the remaining Templars. It would occur to one of them, and it was best to make her feelings known, in case it mattered. It might not, but…

Cassandra approached her, and handed her a mug of something sweet and hot. “Drink this. It will help. You look…too troubled.” The Seeker’s voice was stiff. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”

“I’m bothering me,” Avexis sipped at the drink, making a face. Overly sweetened tea. “But I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to talk to you about the Rite.”

Cassandra‘s already severe countenance hardened, “I forbid it. The Breach might be closed, but there are rifts everywhere…”

“I wasn’t going to ask…” Avexis shook her head, and set the mug down in the snow, wishing it were whisky. Perhaps this discussion would go better if she was drunk. “I‘d rather try to deal with things as they are now. Even if the rifts aren’t a priority, there will be those who think I need to be… controlled.”

“I will deal with them. But… good. I’m relieved. I know it was a difficult decision.” Her gruff tone verged on tender. “Now, go ask the Commander to dance. This is your party.” She indicated the Commander, who was just behind them, a small smile on his face as he handed off a sheaf of papers to Josie.

Avexis’ eyes went wide, with her turn to deny a request, “No. I couldn‘t.”

“Why not? If you don‘t dance with someone, Solas is going to ask, and you‘ll be miserable. Just… get on with it.” Cassandra nodded at the other elf who raised his glass to the warrior gravely.

“We’re all far too congratulatory,“ Avexis shivered, “The work isn’t over yet. It’s too soon to celebrate. And as for the Commander… I won’t let you do this to me, Seeker.”

“Do what?” Her mouth twitched. “You enjoy each other’s company. There is nothing wrong in that.”

“He’s a Templar,” she hissed. “Templars… I can‘t risk getting attached. Not again - you know what happened-” as if powered by her confusion, the earlier rumbling in her head intensified, jerking her attention away from their conversation. Avexis touched her scar on her forehead, and tried to ignore it. It was probably just a side effect from the magic - “Pierre…”

“He’s nothing like that-” but Avexis interrupted her with a cry of shock. Hunched over, holding her head, she stared, unseeing at the ground. “Avexis? Avexis, what’s wrong?” Cassandra bent forward, pulled the slender woman back upright. “Speak to me.”

“She’s here,” she whispered. “Tell… Tell him.” She closed her eyes. “The Elder One. Maker, he’s here!” She turned to Cassandra, clutching at the warrior‘s breastplate. “The Commander. Tell the Commander. Tell Leliana. Tell everyone! We have to get out of here, now! He knows the Breach is closed. Who could miss it? Get them out!”

“Commander!” Cassandra let go, and Avexis nearly fell as the other woman scrambled to follow orders. “Commander!”

A mere second later, the alarm bells ringing from the belfry in time with his feet, Cullen sprinted through the village, the Ambassador close behind him as they headed to the gate. “To arms!” A scout darted in, trying to catch up.

“Commander! There’s a force been spotted, coming over the mountain!”

The Ambassador grabbed at the man, “Under what banner?!”

“NONE!” The scout ripped himself away. “Commander!”

“Too late. I was too late.” Avexis sobbed a breath and turned herself towards the gate. “What good am I?”

She stumbled down the stairs, unseeing, Cassandra close behind, civilians pushing past her with their most precious belongings piled in their arms, jostling her in their urgency, but she didn’t care. She was lost in her own mind as she argued with the dragon that no one could yet see, her eyes scanning the skies - where was it? Where was it hiding? Why was it so different? It couldn’t really be…

The voice intensified, and she yelled back. They were shouting at each other in different languages, getting angrier and more frustrated by the moment. She needed more _power_ to understand, and she wouldn’t risk it. No mage should…

Her blood itched in her veins, whispering about the power she had if she would only tap it - a knowledge she had fought since she was 10 years of age. She wouldn’t. Wouldn’t.

She definitely could do it, if she dared.

A strange boy had been admitted from the front gates, now barred behind him. He stared at her eerily. “I’m Cole. There’s people trying to kill you. You probably already know,” he said quietly, shifting his eyes to Leliana. “You should have believed her before. Will you listen now?”

Words whirled around her like a dust devil, the physical warring with the mental, intelligible and foreign, odd random words like ‘trebuchets’ and ‘Samson‘, as they debated and dismissed possible plans as soon as they were brought forward, until… “You could do it,” the boy whispered, appearing in front of her, pulling her attention back to his pale blue eyes. “You could, if you tried. If you weren’t afraid. You have help, they will help, not like last time. It won‘t be like that. No dying, no blood. Think blue, not red. Never red. Think, don‘t remember.”

“That’s not…” Cullen started, his forehead wrinkled. “We can’t make her… she‘s not a tool! She could die out there, doing what you‘re suggesting!”

“She would offer, if she knew it would work. If she wasn‘t afraid to lose herself,” the boy said more quietly. “One of you needs to ask,” his eyes moved between Cassandra and Cullen and Dorian. “There is trust there. She trusts you. You wouldn‘t ask without cause and you wouldn‘t force her. She knows that.”

Dorian shook Avexis slightly, drawing her eyes to his. “Avexis, Avexis, we know the dragon is here. We need you with us. You‘re the only one that can help here.”

Avexis whimpered, leaning against Dorian without realizing it. “I can’t not listen. She’s too loud to ignore! I can‘t understand her. She’s angry at me, because she thinks I‘m not answering. I don’t know how to make her understand. She thinks I should understand, but I don‘t. Je ne comprends pas*… I don’t know her language. I don‘t have the power to make her hear me.”

Cassandra yelled, “Somebody get me lyrium!” And the strange boy handed her a flask. No one thought to question why he had it. “Avexis, look at me. Are you listening?”

Avexis swung her dazed eyes back around to face her. “Oui, Seeker,” her eyes focused on Cassandra, wide and scared. “Yes, Cassandra, I‘m listening.”

“Take this…” She thrust the bottle towards her chest. “Don’t push it back at me, Avexis. You’re already talking to that dragon, yes? If you take this, you may be able to understand it, to talk to it. You may be able to influence it, or even turn it away. You can give us time. You could save us, Avexis, and you could save yourself. I know you’re frightened, and you don’t have to take it, but think about it. You make the choice, but it must be made soon. Do you understand?”

“Everyone‘s? Mine?” Avexis raised her eyes to reach the Seeker’s from where they had focused on the eerie blue of the small vial. “I’d…”

“Everyone but Roderick,” the strange boy said, in a dreamy way. “He’s dying. He threw himself in front of a Templar’s blade. He thought it would stop for him, but the blade didn’t care who it killed. He needs me.” The boy vanished in one moment, to be forgotten the next.

Only Cullen protested, “You can’t ask this of her! Avexis, you don‘t have to… We don‘t even know if it will work. We can‘t ask such a…”

“I don’t want this either, Cullen. What other choices do we have? To die here, trapped like rats?” Cassandra looked at Avexis, whose eyes were focused on Cullen now, distressed. “Will you at least try?”

Avexis looked at the bottle in her hand, and looked at Cassandra. She turned her gaze to Cullen and tipped the vial between her lips. Her shaking hands dropped the empty flask to shatter on the flagstones, breaking the silence into a hundred pieces. She met Cullen’s darkened eyes once more, before, “I have to try,” She ran out into the night, Cassandra two steps behind her.

“Dorian!” The Seeker called desperately. “Someone needs to help the Commander! Get the rest of the civilians out of here!”

“I’m behind you, Seeker,” Varric rang out. “She won’t be able to aim the trebuchet while she’s fighting the dragon.”

“Poor choice of words, dwarf,” Cassandra snarled, legs pounding to keep up with the woman running towards the trebuchet. “No one will be fighting a dragon tonight. Certainly not Avexis.”

“There’s more than one way to fight a dragon, Seeker,” Varric contradicted. “She’s gonna have to do it eventually.”

“If there’s a dragon, I’m coming,” the Iron Bull slapped Cullen’s back, knocking him forward, and turned to follow them. “Wait up!”

_< EotD>_

Cullen scaled the stairs back towards the Chantry, where the people had fled when the bells began to ring. They’d long since ceased, but his eardrums still rang with their cacophony. Avexis’ warning had bought them that much time, at least. He had been listening to Cassandra, gathering his bravery to approach her, and offer her something to drink, something more to her liking than hot, sweet tea.

He had heard every word, but he didn’t have time to dwell on the problems of templars and mages. Not now.

Perhaps not ever again, if he didn’t hurry.

Cullen pulled the Chantry doors closed, and turned back to the people huddled within. “We follow Roderick,” he said, his voice dull, and not remembering how he knew, precisely, that Roderick knew the way through the pass. Someone hoisted the Chancellor to his feet, and steered him to the back of the Chantry, towards the warren of tunnels that eventually would lead them up the mountain, through the grisly remains of the ruined Temple.

The odd boy watched Cullen for a moment before he turned to take his place at the rear of the line. “She can’t die,” the boy told him.

“No, she can’t,” Cullen agreed, his stomach clenching along with his jaw. There was still so much he hadn’t said… he damned Cassandra’s rules for making him waste what little time they had. If she didn’t think Cassandra was manipulating them both, perhaps he could make her understand…

“She hasn’t heard you cuss yet.” The boy’s grin was incongruous with the blood he was spattered with - Roderick’s and the Venatori and Templars he had killed before the gates were open. Cullen squinted, frowning in confusion.

“How did you know…”

“She’s got her. The dragon. It’s very big. She‘s so bright,” the boy’s voice was full of awe. “Blue and Red and Green… which color is hers? All of them, and none of them… like lightening striking, or the stars in the sky… you can‘t even see the sun, can you?”

“What are you talking about, Cole?”

Cole - How did he know his name? - stared, unblinking, and then turned to move away. “You’re… softer than Samson. They asked questions that hurt you. But we can’t wait for her. For any of them. They’ll be all right. I can help, later. We need to move. Now.”

“How do you know Samson?” Cullen asked hoarsely, but the boy had disappeared again.

It was harder to forget the boy called Cole, after a comment like that.

 

_< EotD>_

 

The melee twisted and turned around Avexis, largely ignored as she fought an internal battle with the beast still winging its way closer, fighting to make her pitch her rider off into the night, or barring that, fly them both into the mountain. She fought back, but with confusion, as if unsure why Avexis would be telling it to do such a thing.

In the dragon’s mind, they weren’t enemies, and that was the scariest thing in this nightmare of a night.

The sun had long since set, and the fires of Haven’s burning buildings were all that lit their way, Avexis swaying unconsciously as her slender thread of control threatened to snap and burn her mind, as well.

It wasn’t working. She had failed, they were all falling… but just when the dragon broke free yet again, the trebuchet fired, Varric pumping his fist in the sky while the Iron Bull thumped his back in congratulations.

“C’est ici! Fuir!*” She screamed over their celebrations, and the rest scattered, understanding her intent, if not her words, running back to the Chantry, while she locked her will once more with the dragon’s.

Once again, her surroundings drifted away. All she saw was dragon against smoky sky, red, blistering, intense, worming its way into her mind, a fiery touch on her consciousness.

But this time, she let her in. It was the only thing she hadn’t tried. She had to see them safe.

She barely recognized her physical presence, she was so sunken into the dragon’s mind. She stalked around her, curiously, without attacking. _Daughter._ She hissed in hurt recognition. _You fight. Why?_

“Non,” she whispered, aloud, horrified.

_Daughter. Why?_

The man it was with - but, no it wasn’t a man it was a… darkspawn? Avexis choked on an inappropriate laugh. “Darkspawn caused the Breach,” she whispered aloud. “Blackwall was right. Sweet Maker, I’ll have to buy him a whisky. A whole bottle of whisky. Or five…” The likelihood of the dragon being an archdemon increased by at least ten times… “I’m glad I didn’t make a bet.”

She didn’t hear a word over the sound of her own hysterical laughter until… _Corypheus._ The dragon hissed, curling around the creature possessively, with the air of one of Josie‘s dignitaries introducing a valued acquaintance. _Corypheus, Daughter._

That name rang bells from long ago - a distant echo in a Chantry sermon lesson meant for the apprentices - the darkest of fairy stories to build a world around. _Seven magisters entered the Golden City…_

“Non, non, it can’t be,” Avexis stumbled backwards away from the darkspawn magister. “You’re not real. You‘re impossible. It‘s an allegory, a story about wickedness… a tale of how power corrupts. You‘re just a story!”

The darkspawn reached out, unbelievably far from her warped perspective, and plucked her from her place on the ground, lifting her into the very sky, her lyrium-fueled and dragon-harried daze making her seem like she was flying as he dangled her from her left arm. The pain snapped her out of her own head. “You have spoiled the anchor with your fumbling,” The man threw her, seeming to think her dimwitted, and not realizing that she was merely distracted with his dragon.

He couldn’t hear her conversation with the dragon? How did he control her, then?

Avexis landed hard on the trebuchet, and stood, wincing, babbling in incomprehensible Orlesian at the magister, hoping to keep him talking, to get the answers from the one creature that only she could ask. In her mind, she shouted, _Are you an archdemon?!_ The bright light from a single arrow shot far above, winking and disappearing into the night wind. They were safe… she had…

The dragon uncurled a little and faced her deliberately, her thoughts clearer than ever. _No. They tried. They give themselves such names. Names mean nothing._ She blew out disdainful smoke. _Daughter. You’re… small. Why?_

_Stop that!_ She didn’t know if she meant the endearment or the query, as she kicked at the trebuchet’s release lever, hoping that Varric and the others had finished the aiming process. Something was prepared, in any case, as the basket released, and she ran aimlessly into the new-made hole in the hillside directly opposite, still smoldering with the dragon‘s balefire. _I’m no daughter of yours,_ she screamed mentally, as her running feet dropped out from beneath her, and she fell, headfirst. The flaming world went black with shadow, and then white with fallen snow.

She tried to lift her head, “Je ne suis pas votre fille*,” she repeated feebly, before her neck failed her, and she was gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Je ne comprehends pas. - I don't understand.
> 
> *C'est ici! Fuir! - It's here. Flee!
> 
> *Je ne suis pas votre fille. - I am not your daughter.
> 
>  
> 
> A note about the language of dragons, as evidenced in Dragon Age lore:
> 
> In "The Silent Grove" we are shown a dragon communicating with a human in their own tongue to a Witch of the Wilds. So this is canon, however farfetched.
> 
> In "Dawn of the Seeker" Avexis is forcefed dragonblood in order to increase her communication with the creatures. After some debate, we decided that it was likely a question of power, based on the size of the creature, as well as relative intelligence. Nugs are easy, for example, along with sheep. Druffalo are large, but mostly stupid, so also easy. But as intelligence and size increases, so would the difficulty. Thus why she needs lyrium in order to communicate effectively. Unlike a Witch of the Wilds, she wasn't raised to it. 
> 
> We've spent a lot of time thinking about this. I hope it shows.


	18. Reasons, Rides, and the Maker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Monday! You know what that means...

Avexis shivered and shuddered herself to standing, still unconsciously reaching out with her mind to touch the dragon’s. Silence greeted her - the lyrium worn off, and the dragon past her natural range. “She’s not an archdemon,” she whispered, breathing shallowly, her head spinning. “I’m not her daughter.” Abruptly, she bent over and vomited, emptying her stomach of everything it had held prior to the lyrium, her muscles pressing against her ribs in ways they weren‘t designed to. Her hands shook as she came down from the drug’s high, trying to breathe, and not breathe at the same time. “Merde, Cassandra,” she cursed. “Never again. Never. They always tell me things I don’t want to hear. It’s not worth…” she shivered again and glanced all around her, dully recognizing her own surroundings.

A mining tunnel. She had mapped these, so long ago now, at Galyan’s gentle request. He never ordered, but gave her the option. She liked maps - they were useful, and as a Tranquil, she enjoyed utility, as much as she enjoyed anything. The maps were a reason, she knew, to keep her notoriety from eclipsing the fragile peace talks, while giving her valuable work to do. He had taken the time to explain. The chance for peace was a good reason to make herself scarce while doing good work.

War was disruptive. Disruptions were inefficient.

The light was strangely blue, blocked as it was with a massive drift of hardpacked avalache between her and the outdoors. How long had she… she tried to focus her eyes, but they blurred with double vision. “I’ve been sleeping too much lately,” she tried to laugh, and it hurt. “Tell me not to be so lazy, Galyan.”

As if in answer, her name echoed. _Avexis_ , a familiar male voice threaded through the tunnels, like a breath of wind. _Avexis._

“Galyan?” she croaked, and stumbled, one hand on the wall, and the other clutched around her aching ribs, never questioning the voice of a man she knew was long dead. “Galyan, is that…”

_This way,_ the voice whispered, from around a corner. Avexis’ hand slipped down the side of the wall before it found a slightly protruding rock to brace against. She shifted forward, her body protesting the pain screaming through her nerves.

“Galyan,” she muttered, trying to fight, to question his presence. “You’re… you’re not…”

_This way,_ the voice insisted. _Let’s get you safe and warm. You ought to be sleeping, it’s so late. Were you intending to work all night again? You shouldn’t do that, it’s not healthy._ The voice guided her. _Not far now… and then you can rest. You need to take better care of yourself._

She moved her feet quicker, ignoring the protests from her battered body. Her blood began to flow faster in her veins as she warmed from the exercise, dripping down from the cut on her forehead, further obscuring her vision. She wiped it out of her eyes irritably, and then stared at the mark on her hand as it spit and flickered, green against the dark blood.

Red and green, she thought idly, just like the Breach and Corypheus. Corypheus was red, and the Breach was green. The Fade was green… lyrium was blue.

Was green green?

It meant something. She wasn’t sure what. But it meant… her palm sputtered.

As if the magic helped, she jerked back into herself, the hazy voice from a near dream warping into a cacophonous shrieking somewhere nearby, dropping the promise of warmth and comfort if she kept going, and she felt the icy wall under her hand, and the rock cutting into her palm.

Only… there wasn’t one voice. There were… five?!

“Despair,” she whispered, eyes wide, as she peered around the corner, only to press herself back against the wall at the blackened figures with eyes like burnt holes waiting for her with icy claws - a trap designed just for her. “I can’t, Galyan,” she whispered, knowing he wouldn‘t answer. Not this time. “I can’t do it. This. They’re all depending on me… and you’re not here! I can’t fight five fucking Despair demons at once _alone_ …”

Her hand zapped and sputtered again as she peered around the corner at the floating demons just beyond, and then roared to life as she screamed, and tried to fling the pain away from her, as hot as a glowing coal.

The mark flared and swallowed the demons whole.

Avexis blinked away the red afterglow - her earlier dizzy question about colors resurfacing once more - and shuddered, the whole tunnel flickering back into near-focus and familiarity, even as the light in her hand died back down into its normal alien glow. “I know where I am,” she realized. “Galyan, thanks to your mapping project, I know where I am.” Her body slumped back against the wall in relief. “I’m going to make it. I survived the Breach, I survived a dragon, and I know how to get out of here,” she smiled, weakly, but with more hope than she had shown since Redcliffe. “Zut alors, I’m going to live,” she nearly laughed again, clenching her teeth and clutching her injured ribs - but even those feeling slightly better since the flare of the mark‘s magic. That was odd, but a blessing. “I just have to find the Inquisition before I freeze. What‘s that, compared to a dragon?”

She shoved herself firmly upright and took better stock of her injuries, trying to call Galyan’s lessons in healing to mind as she slipped her hood up and pressed it against the cut on her forehead. The pressure made her dizzy. “Concussion,” she said aloud. “Explains the double vision, and hallucinations, if it wasn‘t really the Despair,” she sighed. “It was nice to hear your voice, mon ami. Wish I could hear it again. I‘m really… alone now.” She shifted her arm away from her ribs, “I can’t bind these, but I think they’re cracked, at least,” her voice cracked and she sniffed. “Cré ateur, je ne comprehende pas…” She shivered, “They’re counting on me,” she said louder. “I have to make it through this.” She shuffled forward, trying to keep her body upright and straight. “Straight ahead, there should be an opening. It opens out into the pass,” she instructed precisely nobody, her old maps outlined in her mind, strangely focused, even while her eyes wouldn‘t, quite. Magic couldn’t heal broken bones - but it had helped the swelling. “They probably came that way… Cullen…” her voice broke, “might have left me trail signs. If anyone thought I would survive, it would be him and Cassandra. If I focus, if I pay attention… I’ll find them. I‘ll find them, won‘t I, Galyan? Or they‘ll come for me…” She smiled, and a few tears dripped, wiped away with the cuff of her sleeve. “Cassandra always comes for me, doesn‘t she?”

Her head drifted down, noting the red drops that fell on her icy-blue path, remembering the day her phylactery had been taken. A thin stream of blood dribbled into a vial full of lyrium - a dark purple when the Templars had let her shake it - separating quickly back into an insoluble mixture of red blobs and blue liquid. “I wonder, where is my phylactery now? If they had it, they could…” she blinked at the sight ahead of her, blurred and white. “I doubt they kept it at the White Spire, even after I transferred. Not a dangerous mage like me. It wouldn’t have been destroyed in the fighting there…”

The gap in the mountain revealed a blizzard. “Snow?” Her voice echoed back into the cave. “Maker, you have a sense of humor, no matter what Casssandra says about irreverence,” she stepped off the wooden landing and pushed her way out into the wind and weather, wrapping her coat tightly around her and trying to fasten the remaining toggles over her aching chest. “At least I wore the warmest socks today.” She looked upwards into the eddies of swirling snow, “I don’t want to die with cold feet, Galyan.”

 

< _EotD_ >

“Are you ready now?”

Cullen dragged his hand away from his eyes, to find that odd boy watching him idly. He kept flicking in and out around them all. He wasn’t sure what he was - maybe a mage overly-skilled at Fadestep, one too late to join the rebels in Redcliffe, or perhaps an apostate searching out the Inquisition on his own?

“For what?” Cullen snapped at him. It had been a long night, and longer climb. A climb into nothing, with no destination except that of leaving the place he most wanted to be in the world, guided by the faded knowledge of a dying man and a boy that slipped away between thoughts. He couldn’t remember the boy’s name, and wondered if Avexis’ trouble with names was infectious. The camp was established now, and he couldn’t think of the overabundance of things he still needed to do. Not with the dagger stab of her absence threatening to steal his breath.

“Shivering, talking to him. He listens, when no one else does. He always did, but he‘s not really there. The snow is cold, but her feet are even colder. They don‘t even feel it now. She refuses to die with them this cold, but time is running out.” The boy leaned over. “The fires were ice, black spots showing the way. Cassandra always comes for me. She‘ll come now. He left the trail for me. Soot in the snow, dark red blood in a blue vial, turns purple when I shake it. Such a pretty color - my favorite color. Templars make trails they can follow, they don’t let us get lost. They don’t give up looking.” The boy slung down a large shoulder bag. “She’ll want this.”

Cullen swallowed, and reached out with shaking fingers, and removed a spindle, well-used. “Avexis’ bag. You brought her…” he stood up, “Do you mean… how do you…”

The boy just looked at him and repeated his first question. “Are you ready now?”

“Yes, I’m ready, or will be…” Cullen grabbed his pack, deciding he didn‘t really need an explanation. Not if he could save one more life tonight.

Maker, please, just one more.

“You won’t need any of that,” the boy frowned. “Bandages. You need… bandages. A healer. Her head, her chest… her feet. Her bag has socks that don‘t know themselves yet. That‘s why I brought it. They make her happy. Knitting lessons in the dark… she can see but you don‘t need to.” Cole frowned, “They won’t listen to me like they listen to her.”

“Socks?” Cassandra said from the entrance, her grief tipping her voice over into bitterness. “What is he blathering on about socks…” her voice raised in hope, “Avexis? Is she alive?! Maker‘s Mercy, is she…”

“Yes,” the boy nodded so hard his hat nearly fell off. “Yes. Her feet are very cold. They‘re always cold. And wet, too often, and when they are warm they‘re sometimes damp. Her feet are very unhappy and she needs socks. Socks make her happiest. All the socks.”

“Then let’s go,” snarled Cassandra, turning on her heel.

Cullen glanced at the boy, and then rummaged in his own pack, pulling out two pairs of his own thick - if boring - grey lambswool socks, and a roll of wide bandages. The boy nodded again, too emphatically. “Will you show us?” He asked hesitantly, wondering at his belief and easy trust. “Can you lead us to her?”

The boy beamed, “I can help you!”

_< EotD>_

“I’m not going to die. I haven’t heard Cu-cu-cullen cuss yet,” Avexis chattered to herself, struggling to lift one booted foot out of the knee-deep snow. “That’s a g-g-good reason, right, Galyan? It’s like hearing you cu-cuss, that once, when the apprentices sparked the fire in the library when they were trying to light their elfroot-t-t.” She laughed, briefly, and then panted with pain. “C-createur, that was f-funny. They were in so much trouble, and then you just took the elfroot and went upstairs and…”

She paused to try to breathe, surveying the expanse of snow before her, and spotting what looked like a black dot in the distance, directed herself towards it, shivering. “Oui, here‘s a good one. I want to finish another pair of socks. I want to figure out how to make a hat for Bull - a drawstring, maybe, to fit around and over his horns? With pom-poms on the ends.” Her feet were so heavy now, barely lifting above the surface before they fell. “Fuck, I lost my spindle back at Haven. I’m going to have to find another one. Damn it to the Fade! I lost my new socks and Cullen‘s name day present…” She patted her belt pouch, and felt the hard carving of a Mabari. “At least I still have that. Satinalia is too soon. And I‘m fu-fucking going to be alive for Satinalia.”

In the distance, wolves howled, and Avexis sent them a mental warning to stay away, her mana too low after hours of trying to keep herself warm in freezing temperatures to go much beyond a few feet in front of her.

“I won’t die with c-cold feet!” She yelled into the wind - the sounds whipped away into the snow as soon as they left her mouth. “Or by wolf attack. That would just be embarrassing. I talked to a fucking dragon today. I won’t die by wolf bite. I refuse.” She shoved herself further forward, shuffling now instead of lifting. “And I won’t die before I get to tell Vivienne what I really think about the way she plays the Game, and Solas how I feel about his many long-winded stories and how they always end “and the Fade is beautiful and better than anything real.’ In fact, fuck it, if I’m going to tell them what I think, why not just plan on punching both of them? That’s it, I’m not going to die before I get to hit them in their superior, condescending faces.”

She sighed, and shivered, “And if I’m admitting that, even if it’s just to myself, then… I don’t want to die without kissing Hot Templar until he can‘t breathe. I want to suck the air right out of him. No, fuck that, too, I don’t want to die without riding Cullen like the F-fereldan F-forder he is. He won’t break during play time, n‘est-ce pas? Nobody‘s out here to judge me but you, Galyan, and you don‘t mind, do you? Because Cullen‘s… different from Pierre. Cassandra likes him. You‘d like him, too.”

She staggered now, almost falling over, and caught herself with one hand, to try to lift herself up on a small rise of rocks just ahead, slipping off several times before managing the feat. “And… and I’d really like a ride on Bull’s shoulders. I definitely do not want to ride the Bull, for the record. I’m sure that relieves you. That’s just… scary, and I don‘t want to share with Dorian - we can all see where that‘s g-going. But I bet it’s fun up there. Maybe he’d let me, if I got him that cocoa he loves so much… I weigh as little as Sera, and he‘s offered to throw her…”

She fell as she crested a small hill, panting, her bent knees crushing the powdered snow beneath them. Her breath smoked out, like the dragon’s, curling out and then disappearing into the dawn’s light. “Je suis… I’m going to rest - just for a bit, Galyan. Just for a second. It’s been a long night, and I’m so tired… I didn’t sleep last night. Cullen’s fault. Not like that. Wish it had been…” she cackled slightly. “I’m not sleeping so well, since you died. But I think I could, now. Just for a few minutes, yes?” She shut her eyes, “It’s warmer, here, out of the wind, I think.”

As she drifted off, the wind whistled around the cliffs on either side of her, and the green mark on her hand flashed once, and disappeared.

　

_< EotD>_

“Thank the Maker!” That voice was…

“It’s all right,” another, more soothing voice told her as she was lifted into the air. “We’ve got you.”

Avexis struggled at the arms around her, trying to open her eyes. Everything was dark. “Let me go…” she sobbed as her movements caught her ribs. “You’re hurting me!”

“It’s all right, Ladybird,” the voice repeated softly. “We found you. Cole found you. We’re taking you back to our camp. You can get warm there. Don‘t move, you‘re pretty… beat up.”

“You think I’m pretty?“ Avexis muttered, confused. “Camp… we’re not in the Hinterlands, are we? You sound Fereldan. Are you the Maker?” She tried to laugh, “If the Maker is Fereldan, Orlais will convert to the Qun.”

Someone coughed, trying to stifle a laugh.

The man did laugh, “No, I‘m not the Maker. And we’re… well, we don’t know quite where we are, to be honest. Somewhere in the Frostbacks, certainly.” They were moving now, a strange sinking feeling with each step, like falling through clouds. “I wish we had a sled,” her carrier told his companion. “I hate to hurt her like this. She ought to be laying down.”

“She’ll be warmer this way.”

“Haven…” her voice dropped away, remembering.

“Haven is lost,” the man cleared his throat. “You saved us. Even Roderick is clinging to life. You‘re the hero of the hour.”

“He’s the hero,” she coughed and moaned.

“Your ribs - try not to move,” he whispered. “Who is? Cole?”

“Who? No, Roderick. Without him, you’d all be dead.”

“Without you we’d be the same. Without Cole, you and Roderick would be…”

“My head hurts…”

“Concussed, we think, but the blood makes it hard to tell,” he sighed. “What do you remember? What happened after…”

“I remember Galyan,” she stopped, confused. “But he wasn’t really there. It was my head, messing with me. The lyrium… or was it the despair demons? There were five. There had to be five, because otherwise it would be ten, if I was seeing double, right?” She sighed, “Math hurts.”

“The lyrium,” the man stopped. “Right, I had forgotten. Cassandra gave you lyrium.”

“It’s been hours, Cullen. It‘s burned out, I assure you,” Cassandra said.

“Cassandra… Cullen?” she asked, trying to open her eyes. “Cullen, is that you?”

“That’s right,” he sounded relieved. “I thought maybe you had forgotten my name again.”

“So mean,” she shivered as the warmth started her blood moving faster. “Cold. Hurts.”

“I know, but you weren’t far. We’re almost there,” he promised. “There’s a surgeon. She’ll bind your ribs… I have bandages, but I don‘t want to make you colder.”

“Good,” she sighed and winced. “Hurt. Thirsty. Tired…”

“Stay awake, if you can,” his voice was loud, demanding - scared? “You’re hypothermic…”

“Fucking tired,” she groused. “Not dying. Not going to fucking die now. I can’t die, you haven’t cussed yet, and I haven‘t ridden… no, skip that part. I controlled a dragon, argued with a magister, killed five despair demons with the palm of my hand, crashed from the lyrium, broken ribs, bleeding from my head… didn’t sleep last night. That’s your fault.”

“The concussion,” Cassandra said from behind her head, “she‘s still… addled. But she‘s complaining,” the woman said, dryly, “so she’ll be fine.”

“The Elder One,” Avexis yanked her eyes open, and felt her eyelashes pull out. A little pain, compared with the larger ones around her middle. “The Elder One is a magister. One of _the_ magisters. Corypheus.”

Cassandra’s breath sucked in abruptly, “Corypheus. The Conductor, High Priest of Dumat? Am I translating that right? I‘m no scholar,” she seemed to be asking Cullen who shook his head slightly, unsure. Avexis stared at him. His nose was pink with cold. She tried to lift her arm to touch it, only to realize he had bundled her in his overcoat. “Is this symptomatic of her concussion?”

Avexis’ let her head fall back to quit staring. “No. You understand. Dorian will know. Ask Dorian. I don‘t know Tevene.” She closed her eyes again. “Take me to bed, Cullen, I‘m cold,” she muttered, her mouth pulling up on one side. She drifted away again, still shivering, but unable to keep her eyes open.

“That does not count,” Cassandra said a moment later. “She’s not… herself.”

“I know that,” Cullen grumbled, but smiling all the same.

“Yes, she is,” Cole argued quietly from behind both of them, nearly forgotten again. “She‘s always herself, since she came back. She means what she says.” He stared at them out of watery blue eyes. “You should do as she says. She needs to sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merde - shit. If you learn one word of 'Orlesian' from this fic, it will probably be this one.
> 
> Je ne comprehends pas - I don't understand.


	19. Smiles, Roads, and Skies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Posting today, with another on Friday, because there will not be another chapter until Tuesday due to the American holiday.

She woke up, at last, healed as much as was possible between magic and the surgeon’s skills, with color in her cheeks, and eyes shadowed by recent events.

Knowing she was fine, that she would heal in time from her wounds and the grief that haunted all of them, Cullen had to fight his own smiles, even when Solas pulled her aside and exchanged words that made the worried lines that he hated seeing bunch up her scar into shadows cast by the light of the icy blue Veilfire the other mage conjured against the backdrop of indigo mountain peaks.

His mouth kept twisting upward, even when she didn’t tell anyone what the other mage had said to her. Instead she led them north, in as direct a route as possible. She stumbled onto an ancient Dwarven trade road of blue stone nearly hidden by snow and ice that twisted through the mountains, occasionally ending in entrances to the Deep Roads, but more often winding through snow filled valleys.

It was a better road than Cullen had any right to expect, and he was grateful for it. Was grateful for her. And he couldn’t stop smiling, and watching her.

She frowned over maps with Cassandra, debating insistently with the Seeker, and actually hit her over the head with a rolled up map when the older woman was being particularly stubborn. “Do you even know where we’re going?” Cassandra pleaded.

“Oui,” Avexis stated, shrugging in that way… Cullen shook his head, and tried to turn away, catching Rylen’s amused glance as he went. Nosy Knight-Captain. “Sort of. We’re going north, Seeker! Solas says so. A road like this has to lead somewhere, and our choices are north and south. Besides, you know I never get lost - Galyan always said my maps were the best in the Circle. I always know where I am. He said it was a gift.” It wasn’t the first time she had mentioned the other mage since she woke up in the healer‘s tent, without the pain that had lingered before.

Perhaps time had eased her grief. He certainly hoped so. He prayed it would ease for all of them. The only thing that pulled his own mouth straight was the memory of those they lost.

“Why does Solas warrant such trust?” Cassandra asked with a puzzled frown.

But Avexis had already moved on, walking back towards the wagons at the rear of their train, probably to check on the injured, catching his eye with a small smile of her own as she went, as if daring him to follow her.

Her newfound confidence became her. Cullen watched her hips swing with a flush on icy cheeks, an unprofessional half smile on his lips that he couldn‘t get rid of, and the longing to follow her anywhere. Everywhere.

Unfortunately, both Rylen and Cassandra were looking at him, so he marched forward towards his second, exchanging the reports Rylen was holding with his own burden - a child who wasn’t injured, but couldn’t walk on his own for very long. “Here,” he shoved, and Rylen caught him. “Give him a piggyback.” He frowned at the child. “Tell him about Ser Snort, recruit,” he ordered, with a smirk at Rylen. That would occupy the Knight-Captain’s active imagination for a while.

Rylen glared, but shifted the child to his back. “Ser Snort is a Templar, Ser! A Templar like you! The first nug Templar!”

“Is he now? That‘s very impressive.” Rylen’s Starkhaven accent cut through the sound of crunching snow under wagon wheels, and Cullen strode purposefully towards Cassandra. “I have a nephew about your age, lad. Tell me, how did Ser Snort become a Templar?” Rylen’s voice drifted away as he stopped to secure the child on his back. “I didn’t know that the Chantry recruited nugs, myself.”

Cullen could have told him, but left the man to learn it from the source. Ser Snort was quite the hero.

Left alone with the Seeker, Cassandra eyed Cullen doubtfully. “Whatever are you smiling about, Commander? There’s nothing to smile about. I think the fall addled Avexis’ brains permanently,” she rolled up the last of her useless maps and stowed them in the pouch she carried like a security blanket, shoving them around a largish book that he couldn‘t quite see the cover of.

“I think she might be the only sane one among us,” Cullen grinned. “At least she knows where she is and where we’re going. Things are looking up, Cassandra.”

“If you start singing at her again, I’m going to run you through,” Cassandra threatened.

“I wasn’t singing at her - she’s not the Maker,” Cullen’s face felt hot, even with the brisk wind. “I… I want to tell her, Seeker.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because nothing has changed,” Cassandra sighed. “You have to tell her about the lyrium, Cullen. Your decision to stop taking it stands in the way, and you know it, when you are thinking with your head instead of your…”

Cullen stopped her, hissing, “I’m not thinking with my cock. That‘s insulting and…“

Cassandra rolled her eyes, “I was going to say heart.”

“Oh. That‘s… a little better,“ he paused, and queried, worried, “It‘s not… worse, is it?” He hadn’t had more than just the shaking hands and headache for weeks, but…

“You seem fine, as far as I can tell,” Cassandra glanced up at him as she marched, stiffly sympathetic. “I know it’s hard, Cullen. She’s getting closer. She‘s more confident, she’s less sad - you see it. Don’t deny it, you watch her all the time. A week ago she would never have dared hit me over the head with my own map. She’s looking at you now without caring who notices.”

“She just did,” Cullen huffed impatiently.

“Then what are you doing here? Go find her!”

Dorian swanned up, surrounded by an air of belligerent competence, and handed him a thick sheaf of parchment. “Here. I can read and write, a novelty in this area of the continent, evidently, so they gave me the job of taking an inventory of the wagons. My parents would be so proud of the use I‘m making of my extensive education. I just finished, and sent our lovely Herald back with the other copy to double-check my work.” He winked. “I suggest you double-check hers. She‘ll have some trouble.”

Cullen snorted. They were all in on the plot, apparently, but he was disinclined to argue.

“A fine idea,” Cassandra shoved him. “Go. Talk to her. At least then the rest of us will be spared your overwhelming optimism.”

He made it to the furthest wagon, his steps eager, only to see Avexis frowning at the list. “Fucking Altus,” she muttered. “He’s written it in Tevene.” She thrust it into his face. “It might as well be Qunlat, for as much as I can read it.”

Cullen glanced at his copy, “Mine’s in Common,” he showed her.

“Tête de bite. Ce cul*,” she swore.

Cullen shook his head, “Are you talking to me?” His siblings had often called him ‘Cull’ growing up, but…

“No, ‘cul’ means…” she snickered, and cleared her throat. “Nevermind, Commander.” She sighed, “I don’t really have to do this, do I? Dorian did the work, he just got bored, and wrote it in two languages to show off.” She glanced at him sideways, through her eyelashes, “You outrank Dorian. You could excuse me from this assignment, Commander.” She smiled, sweetly, “I would be very grateful.” Her voice was lower, promising treats and wonderful things if he did as she asked. But…

“I could,” Cullen cleared his throat, “Barring a thief in our midst, I can’t imagine that our non-edible or medical stores will change much. Especially not in five minutes. But I believe Dorian is attempting to make us… spend some time together.”

Avexis allowed herself to walk next to him. “Time together, hmm?” Her eyes were thoughtful. “We do seem to have some time.”

“We’ve… we’ve been too…” Cullen cleared his throat. “I’ve rather missed our… rock, these past few days.”

Avexis blinked at him, tears coming to her eyes. “Me, too,” she whispered and shivered.

“Are you cold?”

“Just… sad.” She looked away. “We didn’t save everybody. There was this scout couple, I don’t remember their names, but the man was the nephew of the Fifth Praetor of Ansburg - and the woman was Fereldan - Denerim, I think, from her accent. For me to remember that… Josie will have to write his family.” Her face crumpled, “They’re both dead. They were just starting to live, and they’re gone, because I couldn’t control the dragon.”

“We saved more than we lost,” Cullen whispered back. “Try to focus on that. Adan, Minaeve, Clemence… Flissa, Seggrit.”

Avexis nodded, “And others. I‘m trying to remember. I just… don‘t want to forget, either. It‘s too easy to forget.” She stared straight ahead, and then focused on him, a dare in her eyes. “I’m glad you… that so many made it out safe.”

“As am I,” Cullen sighed, his smile lost, but seeing something in her face that was encouraging, all the same. Unnoticed, that corner of his mouth tipped up again, and his eyes softened.

Avexis flushed, and then slapped the rolled up parchment against her thigh hard enough for her to wince, and turned to walk back up towards the front of the straggling line of refugees. “I… I guess I’ll go complain to Dorian.”

“Avexis,” he grabbed her arm, “I promise, I will never let what happened in Haven happen again,” he whispered. “I won’t let them… use you that way. You’re not a tool.” His hand slid down to her wrist, and then her fingers, bare. His eyes flicked back to hers, alarmed, “Where are your gloves?”

“Gave them to someone that needed them,” she nodded vaguely in a random direction. “I can use magic, if I need to. It‘s easy, getting enough heat to thaw them. The rest of me is warm enough.”

“You’re like ice,” he criticized, and took off his own gloves, tugging with his teeth, and stuffed them in his pocket. “You’ve got to be more careful. You’ll be sensitive to extreme temperatures, now that you‘ve had frostbite. Here,” he took her hands, and she resisted, “Are you going to start claiming the elven race is hot-blooded? I can feel Solas‘ approval from here.” He raised an eyebrow, and she smiled, letting him fold her hands in his, and blow on them, slowly. “Maybe you should start knitting mittens,” he said softly, once he could see the blood flowing in her fingers again.

“I’ve already started, just… not for me. Sera‘s helping. They go fast.” There were tears in her eyes, and she wiped them with the cuff of her coat. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“It’s only hot air,” he smiled again, but this one small and tender where the others had been hopeful. “My older sister would claim there was plenty more where that came from.” He took one of his gloves and fit it over her smaller hand, and then the other. “You should take better care of yourself.”

“That’s… not what I meant,” Avexis backed away, paling. “I meant… for the promise.” She stared him down. “No one else… they keep thinking it was a miracle. I don‘t regret it, but…” she shook her head and backed away, tucking her hands into her coat to keep them warm inside his too large gloves. “I… I should go.” She reached her cuff up and wiped her eyes again.

Cullen watched her go, wondering what he said wrong.

For once, he had no idea.

_< EotD>_

The castle appeared through a cleft in the rocks for the first time - just a glimpse of the bridge crossing the gully at first. “Is that it?” Avexis asked Solas, awed.

“It is called Skyhold,” Solas instructed, “In the Elvhen language it was known as…”

Avexis held up her hand, “Spare me. You know I won’t remember in a few seconds.”

“Very well,” Solas sighed, and pointed. “Up there, a better view will present itself.”

Avexis eyed him, wondering idly how he knew, but obeyed, scrambling up the gradient of the stone until… “L’Épée de Miséricorde,*” she breathed, “Solas… it’s amazing.” Tall towers reached impossibly high towards the heavens, battlements - battered by some unknown war - stretched between. The remnants of shredded banners - the heraldry long since faded and forgotten - fluttered from the proud walls. Like the Inquisition, this fortress was bruised, but not beaten. “You can’t mean for us to…” she shook her head. “C’est brilliant.* Merci. Merci, Solas. There‘s more room than we can ever use.”

He nodded, more than pleased with her gratitude.

Avexis slid off the rock, towards the spymaster, the other elf close behind. “Forward scouts,” she announced, “We need to send them ahead, let them scout and straighten things up, make sure it’s moderately habitable - but it has to be better than camping in the snow…”

“It’s preserved by ancient magic,” Solas assured her. “You’ll find it quite temperate.”

Avexis couldn’t help herself, smiling at him, “If this is the sort of wonders you see in the Fade, I understand sleeping your life away. My experiences have never been so… helpful.”

“I’ve enjoyed traveling, to see new areas of the Fade,” Solas said lowly. “If you’re interested, I would share…”

“Thanks for the offer. Perhaps some other time,” Avexis called out. “Leliana! We need a team of forward scouts, heading through the rocks. We’ve spotted it!” She dragged the spymaster up the rock, Cullen following, more slowly. “Look!”

“Maker’s Breath!” Cullen exclaimed, to the accompaniment of Leliana’s appreciative murmurs. “How did Solas know…”

“Maker’s Breath, again. Don’t you know another exclamation? And does it matter?” Avexis beamed. “It’s perfect. Everything we need - and defensible, besides!”

“It certainly has the bones…” Cullen agreed, his eyes narrowing with calculation. “Yes… yes, I’d say you’ve done well.”

“It wasn’t me,” Avexis corrected, “it was Solas!” She was already sliding back down the rock. “Thank him! I’m going with the forward scouts.” She turned her glowing face - freckled and windburnt in the constant reflected sun of the past weeks - upwards towards him, her hair lit up like a halo from behind. “I’m going to see our new home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tête de bite - Dickhead
> 
> Ce cul - That ass
> 
> L’Épée de Miséricorde - Sword of Mercy


	20. Stairs, Swords, and Soufflés

“It has to be her,” Leliana insisted, folding her arms, the dimmed light from the dingy windows of what would be their War Room tinting her with even more shadows than usual. “There’s no one else. I won’t ask the Warden. Varric insists he doesn’t know where the Champion is. We have the Herald, and the people will follow her.”

“She’s not a tool to be used,” Cullen ran his hand over his hair. “She barely survived Haven, and now you want her to take charge, take even more responsibility for all of us!”

“She already has,” Josie opined with a sigh. “Commander, she led us here. She saved the majority of us from death by dragon, by virtue of her unique skills. If the Herald hadn‘t been in the Hinterlands, if she hadn‘t gone to Val Royeaux, or to Redcliffe, we would never have known about…”

Leliana winced, “We might have had more time if I hadn’t pulled back the forward scouts I promised. But when the first scout disappeared, I…”

“It’s in the past, Leliana,” Cassandra instructed impatiently. “But you’re all wrong. You can‘t ask this. Not now.”

“Let me ask you all something,” Josie hesitated, “Do you believe she’s the Herald?”

“Yes.” Cullen’s voice was confident. “But she’s not just the Herald. She’s a person. Just because she‘s chosen doesn‘t mean you can demand the impossible.”

“No.” Leliana’s eyes gleamed under her hood, “But our people think she is. That’s more important than what I believe.”

Cassandra was silent. “I… am not sure,” she admitted, when they confronted her. “It’s hard to believe that little girl from so long ago would be… but if she was chosen by the Maker, if he intended me to save her life so she could fulfill a greater destiny… if it wasn‘t about saving the Divine, but about saving her, instead…” her words trailed off. “She’s suffered so much. There’s so much resting upon her shoulders. I would not add to that.”

Cullen broke in, leaning against his fists on the table before them. “I’ve spoken to her.”

“Is that what you call it?” Leliana teased.

He glared, “I can see how Haven weighs on her. She’s already taken up the burden of leading us, Seeker. In all but name. I say…” he hesitated, hoping it was the right choice, and trying to be unselfish in his decision, “I say give the credit where credit is due. She’s earned the title.” It was the right choice, if not the convenient one, he told himself. His own… feelings shouldn’t be factored in.

“I’m surprised at you, Commander,” Cassandra disapproved. “But I am outvoted, I see.” She stepped back from the table, and opened the door. “You should know she will likely try to turn it down. She has no desire for power, and even less fondness for being made a spectacle of.” She left the room, and the door slammed behind her.

“Then let us plan,” Josie calmly lifted her quill, in tacit agreement with Leliana to ignore the Seeker‘s tantrum. “It should be an occasion, something to remember. Such things are important for morale. The steps, in front of Skyhold, I think…” she scribbled madly, her eyes alight with something positive to plan.

“Our morale since Haven has been dismal,” Cullen admitted. “You don’t intend to put her on the spot in front of everyone, do you? She‘ll hate that. Perhaps putting on a show isn‘t…”

“She’s already drawing attention,” Josie countered. “Think of this merely as a formality, Commander. She scales the stairs as Andraste‘s Herald, and when she arrives, she becomes…”

“I have some ideas,” Leliana smiled, plots behind her eyes, and Cullen groaned. “We have Ameridan’s sword. Let’s use that.”

Cullen frowned, “She’s a mage. What the Void will she do with a sword? She probably won‘t even be able to lift it.”

“It’s a ceremonial sword,” Josie explained, with much condescension. “It’s not like we’re asking her to behead people with it.”

“Though… that’s a thought,” mused Leliana. “There’s Alexius to deal with, after all. There are ceremonies, and then there are trials…”

“That’s barbaric,” Cullen recoiled. “Avexis would never…”

“Avexis,” tittered Leliana. “So informal, Commander.”

“Stop it,” Cullen ordered. “Plan what you will. I want no part of this… charade.”

“Oh, it’s real,” Leliana’s eyes glimmered. “Your Ladybird is going to be our new Inquisitor. I’ll hold the sword, Josie.” Her glance flitted back to the Commander, “You get to convince Cassandra to be the one to bring it up.”

Cullen snarled, but knew that there was no point in asking where she had heard that name.

 

_< EotD>_

 

Two days later, Avexis surveyed the courtyard below her from her place on the steps of Skyhold, and turned back to Cassandra, hissing her disapproval of the situation in which she found herself, “You’re crazy. Or I am. Have I hit my head again?” She whispered the next, “Am I even awake right now? But I wouldn‘t dream something as bizarre as this. Who would make a mage Inquisitor? An elven mage Inquisitor? An elven, Tranquil mage Inquisitor?”

“You’re awake,” Cassandra cleared her throat awkwardly, and Leliana rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to claim it was unanimous, but… a majority of us agreed that you are the right choice for our Inquisitor. Mage, elven, or what have you.”

Avexis lifted a hand and touched her ear, self-consciously. “I see. Can I refuse?”

“I’d rather you didn’t. It would be… embarrassing, to say the least. Demoralizing at the worst.”

“Who was the dissenting opinion?”

“Mine.” Cassandra muttered, trying to be subtle, as a horde of pilgrims and soldiers viewed her from below.

Avexis blinked, and shifted to look at Leliana. “Really?” The spymaster inclined her head, still holding out the massive golden sword before her.

“I think we’ve asked enough of you already. But… there isn’t anyone better, Avexis. We need you,” Cassandra fidgeted with her gloves.

“I’m not a diplomat,” Avexis stressed. ”I’m not a strategist.”

“We have Josie and Cullen for that,” sniffed Leliana. “The sword is heavy, Herald. Are you going to accept or not?”

Avexis turned and stared down into the courtyard, a hundred hopeful faces peering up at her, but one in particular stood out, his eyes warm and kind. Her eyes dropped to his lips, and her long list of things she wanted to do before she died flashed in front of her eyes. “I don’t want to do this,” she hissed at Cassandra.

“Just take the damn sword,” grumped her friend. “You’ve already been doing the work, you deserve the title that goes with it.”

“I’m a Tranquil! I threaten everything the Chantry has built up, just by being myself! I’m an elf, a mage, and I…” she couldn’t finish with the fact that becoming the Inquisitor would get in the way of all her newfound reasons for living. She couldn’t, not with all those people watching.

“You are a clever woman who will not let herself be drawn astray by selfishness,” corrected Cassandra. “You will do an excellent job. It‘s a position worthy of you.”

“Why don’t you do it, if it’s so great?”

Cassandra glowered in answer.

“And my question is answered,” sniffed Avexis. “Fine. For them.” She marched forward and took the sword, silently, her eyes still focused on warm brown ones that dropped away after a moment. With respect or… resignation? Her own slid away with the latter. “What do I do now?”

“Say something,” Leliana hissed after a long minute, through a clenched smile.

“I don’t know what to say! Can I speak Orlesian?”

“No! Just… say you’ll lead them.”

“I’ll lead you!” Avexis stammered in a clear voice, flushing to the tips of her ears. A very muffled ’huzzah’ came from the first couple of people in the very front of the crowd.

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “Commander?” She called out.

Cullen chuckled, “Inquisition, will you follow?” He called out to the people surrounding him, and Avexis missed his next few words as she lost herself in how he gathered them up and inspired them. For a moment, she had the undeniable desire to cheer with them. Such was the Commander’s charisma. He drew his sword, and lifted it up, offering it to her, fastening her where she stood with his earnest eyes. “Your Inquisitor!” He shouted, and they all cheered. Avexis, stirred by his attitude, raised the sword - unbelievably heavy - over her head sideways, feeling out of place, and then let it fall again.

Cassandra shoved her inside the Hall at that point, and out of the way of the celebrating onlookers, as the Commander, Leliana and Josie scrambled up the stairs to meet them.

“If I’m the Inquisitor, I have one order for all of you,“ Avexis began, handing the sword to Cullen, who took it, absentmindedly tucking it under one arm, as if it weighed nothing at all.

“Anything,“ Cassandra promised recklessly.

“Never put me on the spot like that again!” Avexis ordered.

Cullen laughed, and waved them forward. “Let’s take this into the war room. After you, Inquisitor.” His smile urged her on, and then slipped away. Avexis frowned.

“You go ahead,” Cassandra ordered. “I’m… I’m sitting this one out, if you don’t mind.” She squeezed Avexis’ arm. “You should get settled without looking over to see what I think. You‘ll do fine. I‘m going to go see about setting up some training dummies.”

“It’s not fair that your hobbies get priority,” grumbled Avexis. “I don’t get to sit out meetings to untangle my knitting.”

“She won’t be the only person using them,” Cullen began defensively.

“Oh sure, take her side,” Avexis grumped. “Lot of good being the Inquisitor is, when you all just gang up on me anyway.”

 

_< EotD>_

 

Avexis and the advisors spent their first War Meeting sorting through enough maps to bury all four of them in geography lessons, and then hearing reports from the groups they had scattered through Ferelden and Orlais, before Haven fell.

When Varric let himself into the War Room, closing the door softly behind him, they were all glad for a distraction from the panicked letters of agents that thought they were all that was left of the Inquisition. “Sorry I’m late to the party,” he shuffled his feet. “But everyone getting so inspirational, earlier, jogged my memory. I‘ve got… a friend that might be able to help you with Corypheus.”

“Oh, Varric. I read the book - the Orlesian translation, anyway. Cassandra’s going to kill you.” Avexis worried at her lower lip. “We need any help we can get, but…”

Josie looked up from her close-writ scribbles, wide-eyed, “Is she here? Really?!”

“Up on the battlements,” Varric confirmed, his normal grin more wince-like than anything else, “I don’t suppose I could get some Inquisitorial protection from the Seeker?”

“Nothing I say will make a difference,” Avexis started dubiously. “I’ll try, but…”

“You’d be surprised,” Cullen muttered, “I think Cassandra believes more in the Herald of Andraste than the rest of us at this point.”

“I hope not. I don’t need disciples, I need friends. Let’s go meet your ‘friend‘, Varric,” Avexis sighed. “I don’t suppose it’s possible she’d take the job instead, is it?”

“Not in a million years, Fancy. She avoids the spotlight these days.”

“Then, Leliana, please write to the Hero of Ferelden and beg her to come,” Avexis ordered, testing her authority. “You know we know you know where she is…” she stopped, confused at her own grammar, “That can‘t be right. Common makes no sense.”

Leliana’s mouth turned up on the side. “And if I refuse?”

Avexis grinned evilly, “Then I sic a Jenny on your birds.”

Leliana’s smile grew, “Sera won’t touch me. Jennies don’t mess with their own. She knows, in her words, that I ’used to play’. And you‘re incapable of harming an animal unless it attacks you first. I‘ve seen you with the nugs at Haven, Inquisitor.”

“They told me you were nice when I gave them cheese. Little squeaking liars, every one of them. Fuck,” Avexis sighed. “I‘ll have to go with Plan B. Don‘t say I didn‘t warn you.” She caught Cullen stifling a laugh. “Don’t you dare laugh, Commander.” She faced them all, “Let’s quit for the day before you all regret your almost-unanimous decision, while I speak to the Champion. This might take a while.” Her eyes drifted towards Cullen, “and I’m sure you all have many things to do.”

 

_< EotD>_

 

The Champion of Kirkwall made her way from the empty corner tower, towards her and Varric. “I don’t go by that title much anymore.”

Avexis frowned, “What would you prefer?”

“Hawke is fine,” the shy woman hiding behind a curtain of dark hair - hardly a picture of the violent creature Varric had nicknamed ‘Stabbity’ - shifted from one leg to the other. “Varric thought we could help each other. Corypheus… he‘s my problem. I let him go.”

“How?”

“My father did some magic for the Wardens,” Hawke shook her brunette hair back out of her face, threading her fingers through it nervously. “They had confined Corypheus, using his… blood to seal his prison. They tricked me into releasing him.”

Avexis shivered, “That’s… not good.”

“I know. I‘m still angry that I was so gullible,” the woman sighed, and drew her hair back into a low ponytail, tying it up with a thong. “I’m not a mage myself, but my sister is. Father was always so insistent that blood magic wasn’t worth the price. I think I know why, now.”

Avexis cleared her throat, and sheepishly noted, “I read the book about you.”

“Maker’s Breath, I wish you hadn’t,” the woman laughed, then, bell-like and clear. “Varric’s pack of lies. At least it sold well.”

“Do all Fereldans say ‘Maker’s Breath’?” Avexis asked, frowning. “It’s not popular in Orlais. It doesn’t translate well. Souffle de Créateur…” she tried, the words awkward on her tongue.

“Souffle?” Hawke raised an eyebrow, “I thought that was a puffy sort of cheese bread.”

“Souffle, not soufflé !” Avexis giggled. “The accent matters. A Fereldan would make it about cheese.”

“What did you expect? You can take the cheese away from the Fereldan, but you‘d better expect a war afterwards.“ Hawke relaxed a little. “Go on. I know you have more questions, if you read all that nonsense.”

“Where’s Fenris?” Avexis whispered, eyes sparking with excitement at the opportunity.

Hawke’s eyes drifted down towards the stables. “Officially, he’s at… home. But unofficially - he’d give his life to spare mine. And he’d kill me if I took off without him. So he’s… around.” She looked worried, “Is that all right? We’re trying to keep a low profile, but he’s rather,” she smiled sweetly, “He stands out, a bit.” Her eyes, lined with a fatigue Avexis thought she recognized, were soft.

“It‘s just fine. I’ll keep your secret, and see you have a room that won‘t draw attention to his presence.” Avexis cleared her throat, “I should be thorough and ask about Anders’ whereabouts.”

“I have no idea.” Hawke had shut down again, folding her arms so that she could reach her knives. “I spared his life, and therefore Justice. I didn’t agree with his… actions, not entirely, but he’s not the monster people make him out to be. He’s a healer, first and foremost. What he did - the war was coming anyway. He just ensured that the mages would fight back, instead of accept what the Chantry thrust upon them. He showed them they could win.”

“I can‘t agree, you know that, right?” The Inquisitor had to represent everyone. “He killed innocent people when the Chantry exploded.”

“I’m not asking you to. But it’s the truth. The Kirkwall Chantry did nothing to aid their mages - their so-called charges. Revered Mother Elthina was less than useless. She could have removed Meredith at the first sign of unbalance, but instead she let atrocities occur. I don’t mourn her death, because she, at least, was no innocent. I mourn the people that died because she didn’t intervene. My sister was in that Circle! I couldn‘t just… let Meredith continue ruining lives! And Anders saved as many lives as he took that day, with his healing abilities. He‘s saved five times as many since it happened.”

Avexis sighed, unable to argue. “Where is your sister?”

“Safe. Away from the Free Marches.” But the woman’s face was worried. “Maker, let her be safe. She‘s all I have left.”

The silence between them stretched out lengthwise until Avexis could almost see the shadow it cast. She shoved herself upright off the low wall of the battlements. “I’m going to call a War Meeting tomorrow. Where do you think we should start looking for answers about Corypheus?”

Hawke relaxed again, “I have a friend in the Wardens. He’s waiting for me, in Crestwood. He’s been investigating corruption in their ranks. Whatever else Anders is… he‘s a Warden as well. When we fought Corypheus, the creature affected him. He heard whispers the rest of us couldn‘t hear.”

Avexis shivered, “I know what that‘s like.”

Hawke narrowed her eyes, “That’s right. Varric did say you have an unusual history. Perhaps you won‘t be so quick to judge. You‘ve done horrible things as well, haven‘t you?”

“I’ll certainly try to be fair,” Avexis sighed, and tried to smile. “We have a Warden with us as well, so I’ll include him in the meeting. I’ll go update him now, see if he has any other information for us. Crestwood, you say? I‘ll pull out my maps.” She held out her hand, and the Champion took it, “Thank you for coming, Hawke.” She hesitated, but pressed on, “I don‘t suppose you‘re interested in my job?”

Hawke’s curses were extreme.

Evidently, some Fereldans could cuss quite well.

She didn’t need to be thinking about that right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Souffle de Créateur - Maker's Breath


	21. Wardens, Worries, and Roofs

Avexis stomped out of the stable half an hour later. Blackwall had avoided all of her questions about Warden corruption, blowing up and telling her that she had no reason to suspect him.

“Suspect you of what?” She snapped back over her shoulder. “Suspect you of being an asshole, perhaps. If you‘re on our side, why be so secretive? It was just a simple question!”

She took two steps forward, her face pointed up at the high wall, only to see the odd boy - it was impossible to tell how old he was - sitting on the edge, observing the surgeon moving among the people far below. She watched him appear below in a puff of confusing smoke, helping an injured man drink. She approached, cautiously. Not everyone could see him, or remember him. They had already had an odd meeting about him, in which Cassandra and Solas and Vivienne argued about his nature, and she had agreed with Solas to let him stay, if he liked.

She had never met such a spirit before, but she had read about them. Her experiences in the Fade tended to be darker. Her dreams would be different, if Compassion haunted them instead of dragons. She had no desire to send him away. He was… he was a rare thing, to find in the middle of a war. Galyan had always told her that not all spirits were things to fear. Caution was advisable, but not blind hatred.

“You’re helping people,” she said aloud, approaching from behind as he ‘helped‘ a woman blaming herself for losing patients. “You’re using your powers as a spirit to help her.”

Cole blinked at her from under his hat as the woman walked away, dazed, but as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “Not the way a person would help.”

“You’ve been helping since Haven, and you‘re doing better than the rest of us by far,” Avexis sighed, glancing upwards to the balcony that framed Vivienne’s eternally disapproving form with worried eyes. “Vivienne hates this,” she whispered to the spirit.

“Yes,” he agreed. “She thinks I’m a demon. I’m not, but I could be. If I start to be, again, I want you to kill me.”

“I can… agree to that,“ Avexis touched her scar, remembering old fears far too well. But that Vivienne feared the power of Compassion said a great deal about the other mage. “Cole, if you’re a spirit of Compassion, then… we need you. I need you.” She frowned, “Even if it does make Solas far too happy. Will you stay?”

“Thank you?” Cole offered, as if he was unsure the words were appropriate. “It will make him happy. Isn‘t happy good?”

“Not when it’s Solas,” Avexis said darkly.

Cole frowned, clearly not understanding. “But he likes you.”

“He doesn’t know me.”

Cole’s face cleared, “You’re right. But he thinks he does. You reflect, shine, remind him. He remembers…” Cole broke his words off. “I… forgot what I was going to say.”

Avexis reached out and touched him, almost without thinking. He felt solid, real - she had half expected her hand to go through him like a ghost. “It happens to us all,” she said softly. “Cole, would you please keep helping?”

“I will stay,” Cole agreed, smiling a little. “You knew that.”

Avexis shook her head, “No, I only hoped.”

“Inquisitor, come quick!” Scout Harding dragged her attention away from Cole - who promptly disappeared for places unknown. The dwarf scout grabbed her arm, and pulled her up the stairs and across the courtyard. “She’s going to kill him, if you don’t…” She shoved her into the forge, and Avexis heard what sounded like furniture hitting the walls from two floors up, and two angry voices, both all too familiar.

The fight of the age was already in progress, and she had nearly missed it, talking to Cole.

“Fucking Void,” Avexis cursed, and Fadestepped up the stairs, to confront a snarling Cassandra and a defensive Varric, a rough-hewn table between them with several chairs knocked over, away from the tables, as if they had been thrown. She scanned both of them for injuries, but it didn’t look like either of them had actually touched the other. There would be blood, if they had. “Stop it!” She yelled, and placed herself between them. “Cassandra! Varric!”

“He lied to me!”

“Damn right I did!”

Avexis sighed, and asked, “Cassandra… do you honestly think this is going to help?”

“He _lied_. He knew how important it was and he…”

“He protected someone he cared about,” Avexis took a risk and touched the Seeker’s arm. “You would do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”

“I wasn’t going to hurt her! I just wanted…” Cassandra narrowed her eyes, “Varric is a liar, Inquisitor. A snake.”

“You know that’s not true,” Avexis whispered. “Be fair.” Varric shifted uneasily.

“We wanted to make her the Inquisitor!” Cassandra batted Avexis’ hand away, pointing accusing fingers as the dwarf. “He kept us from…”

“You have an Inquisitor!” Varric tried, desperately indicating Avexis with an out flung arm. “You didn’t need Hawke!”

Cassandra shoved herself away from the table, the wrinkled at the corner of her eyes tight and pinched with tension, turning her back on her opponent for a moment. “Varric,” Avexis watched her, “Go on. I’ll… handle this. We‘ll talk later.” Cassandra settled herself in a chair, and cradled her head in her hands as the dwarf made his way downstairs.

“We looked for the Warden, but Leliana hid her from us,” muttered Cassandra. “So we looked for the Champion, but Varric did the same.”

“Can you blame them?”

Cassandra lifted her face. “Yes.” She bit off. “I didn’t do a good enough job protecting you. And now you‘re here, you’re our Inquisitor, you‘re in danger, and it‘s my fault. I‘m furious, because they kept their loved ones safe, and you… and I couldn‘t… and we needed you. I let myself be convinced.”

“You shouldn’t take it on out Varric.”

“I know,” Cassandra choked. “I know.” She sighed, “Do you hate me, for putting you in this position?”

Avexis shook her head. “We don’t know why things happen the way they do. If this was the Maker’s will, if Andraste chose me, then none of it is your fault. Not Galyan’s death, not the Divine’s, not my new title. If it’s not divine will, then - it’s still not your fault, it’s just a massive coincidence. We simply need to deal with the situation as it is, not as we wish it were.”

Cassandra snorted, “I am not good at meek acceptance.”

“Good,” Avexis flashed back, “because I’m pretty pissed at all four of you for making me Inquisitor. I think you‘re all insane.” She settled herself across the table from the Seeker. “I don’t hate any of you, though. Yet.”

Cassandra’s mouth twitched, “Cullen didn’t want to at first, either. But then he realized that you already had the responsibility, without the authority, or the credit. He wanted… you to have all of those things, if you had the weight of the decisions.”

Avexis flushed, “That’s… good to know.”

“You should go find him.”

“Stop it.”

“No. You are… good together. Too good to waste.”

“I’m the Inquisitor.”

“So? Just because you’re in charge doesn’t mean that you can’t… you could use a pleasant distraction. So could he.”

“And how would that conversation go?” Avexis batted her eyelashes, “Commander, would you care to inspect my armory? Commander, I don’t suppose you miss watching mages, do you? Commander, I care for…” she stopped abruptly.

“That was a good start,” Cassandra flushed, and looked down at her clasped hands. “Avexis, I have… not been there for you, in the past when I should have been. But I’m here now, and I’m telling you, you can’t let opportunities pass you by. I regret much with Galyan. I don’t want that for you.”

“That’s exactly why this will never work,” Avexis covered her hands with her own. “The Circles will return, Cassandra. Mages have to learn how to control their abilities somewhere, and… then I’ll have to go back. If I fall…” she stopped, and then started, “if I get attached, I won’t want to let go. It’s already - he‘s already…” she blushed.

“I told you he was a good man.” Cassandra pressed her lips together smugly. “You need to quit thinking about what everyone else thinks, and do what is right for you.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the Inquisitor. Other people‘s opinions give me my authority.”

Cassandra lifted one crooked eyebrow, “I was a Seeker involved with a Senior Enchanter. I assure you, I am familiar with awkward relationships, as well as dealing with outside opinions. And we,” she smiled, transforming the hard angles of her face into something softer, “we didn’t hide anything.”

　

　

<EotD>

It had been a very long day, between greeting spirits of Compassion and arguing with Champions and Wardens and Seekers. Avexis found herself awake in her temporary room by the front gate, restless as usual. She made her way out of the room, nearly tipping over her cot in the process, and out the door, Cassandra fast asleep on the floor, Varric’s book under her head as a pillow. She shook her head at the Seeker’s reading material before sliding the door shut again, and faced the courtyard, looking for a retreat.

Her own room wouldn’t be finished to habitable standards for days. That pleased her - once she had to take the Inquisitor’s place in the grand room taking shape at the head of the Main Hall, there would be no softly snoring Cassandra to keep her company during her wakeful nights. Her nights would be emptier, without the Seeker’s nighttime noises.

She was lonely, just thinking about it.

A set of solid stone stairs recommended their tower destination. Avexis climbed upwards, her mind whirring with all the things they had tried to accomplish that day - too many for her mind to rest easily.

The Chargers had finally found them, reporting in by raven - the birds were uncannily intelligent, especially Baron Plucky, who was fond of flattery and susceptible to treats - about Therinfal Redoubt. The Templars had been lost to an Envy demon, one the Chargers were chasing across Ferelden - and they had all taken that loss hard. The Chargers were the best for the job as well as the closest team, but on top of that, there were Venatori in the palace in Denerim. Leliana’s people were on their way to save the King’s life, at his own request. Josie was thrilled about their relations improving with Cullen’s homeland.

Avexis revised her opinion. It had been a stressful but productive day.

There had been talk of hiring an Arcanist for enchantment purposes, and the name of another acquaintance of Leliana’s was brought forward. “How many bloody people do you know?”

“I’ve made friends, and on occasion, enemies,” Leliana countered. “Dagna is the former. And she’s eager to join. She could be here in just a few weeks, if…” her fingers had hovered over the Arcanist’s location in Nevarra, waiting the approval she knew would come.

A former Tranquil knew the value of runes and enchantment. It had never been her field, but… it could make the difference, the right rune in the right place.

Avexis shrugged, “Very well,” she agreed. “Cullen, do you think you could…”

“I’ll send an escort her way immediately,” he smiled and her thoughts faded away, just as his smile did when she met his eyes, suddenly distant and… sad?

Troubling, that. It kept happening.

She had reached the tower, and she shifted some crates to the side to get to the door. The door stuck, but by banging her hip against it, it opened at last, swinging open to reveal a dusty room with a few rickety bookshelves, a sturdy desk that had seen better days, and a ladder leading upwards.

She crossed to the ladder, testing it for rot. It seemed stable, and so she climbed again, careful not to look down.

Above, there was a half loft, a cobwebbed bed frame in pieces, a few barrels and… and a tree growing up through the fractured roof?

Avexis stepped off the ladder, and made her way across the floor, testing it as she went, mana at the ready if she needed to cast a barrier in order to soften her fall, and eying the tree. It was very solid, growing out from the very stones of the tower itself. Slowly, she climbed up, and mounted the roof.

Up here, the wind was brisk and the sky clear, the air free from dust and the smell of too many people who had been traveling for too long without getting really clean, as the bathhouses were still full of debris, and the devices to heat the water broken. The stoves for heating the saunas were full of nesting creatures that Avexis was slowly encouraging to find a new home. They were both on Josie’s list of priorities, but they would take time.

She wasn’t the only one in Skyhold who would murder for a marble bath. But even Josie wasn’t capable of those kind of miracles. They would have to satisfy themselves with makeshift troughs and barrels, for now. And those were in short supply, along with the privacy most preferred while bathing.

She put that mess out of her mind, and sat with her back to the scar where the Breach used to be, and let herself relax, and forget the day‘s business in favor of the horizon, lit up by alpenglow.

The stars, at least, were asking nothing of her.

“What are you doing?!”

Her peace shattered, she accidentally sent an electrical current through the wood. She winced, thanking the Maker that wood was a poor conductor. Thankfully, the timbers weren’t even smoking.

“Don’t scare me like that. I might have killed you. I’m just - watching the stars,” she grumbled, trying to smooth her sparking hair, stroking it back into a low knot on the nape of her neck. “I didn’t bring my knitting.”

“You shouldn’t be up here,” Cullen whispered, climbing higher up the tree. “It’s dangerous. The engineering corps hasn’t checked the roofs for…”

“It’s fine, Cullen, come over and see.”

He frowned, but dismounted the tree and shifted himself sideways on the roof. “It is nice,” he admitted reluctantly. “The fresh air, I mean. The temporary barracks are so dusty and stuffy… I‘d forgotten what it was like to share a room with dozens of others. I couldn‘t breathe in there.”

“Josie says I have to be off the main hall,” Avexis sighed, “Or I would ask for this tower.” Her face lit up, “You should have it!”

“Doesn’t the Commander of your armies get a roof?” Cullen laughed.

“We can fix it…”

Cullen shook his head, smiling, “It’s fine the way it is. If I fix the roof, you won‘t be able to climb on top of it. And it is central. Overall, you‘re right. It‘s a good place for me.” He grinned, “I’ll take it, Inquisitor.”

Avexis relaxed again. “You‘re making a habit of finding me, you know. If you’re not careful, a girl might think you‘re looking.” She cast a sideways glance at him again, knowing she should stop flirting, and somehow, being completely unable now that he was right next to her.

“I couldn’t stay in the barracks - my sleep is too restless. The men need their sleep. So I was awake, on my way back from the armory, and saw you slip out. I… thought you might like company?” His words hesitated, shyer than she could ever remember him being.

“You were right,” Avexis swept her eyes over to look at him again, his cheeks flushed with the cold breeze. “You gave a good speech earlier.”

“You didn’t. ‘I‘ll lead you?’ Surely you can do better than that.”

“Nobody told me to prepare! I got up this morning and you were all waiting to pounce on me, like… so many kittens.”

“Cassandra was afraid you would refuse, if we gave you warning.” His voice might have sounded guilty, and Avexis squinted, wishing her night-vision was a little better.

She made a face, “She knows me too well. I tried, and she told me it would be ‘demoralizing‘.”

Cullen covered her hand with his, “I think you’re already a wonderful Inquisitor.”

“Hold your breath, because it was only my first day,” she looked away, her heart hammering in her ears and her breath coming quicker. Perhaps Cassandra was… “Cullen,“ he pulled his hand away, just before she kept going, “I… wanted to ask…”

“Yes?” His voice sounded distant, and she looked back to see him leaning over the edge. “I can see the guards from here,” he chuckled, looking back. “Was there something you needed?”

Avexis frowned, and shook herself, scolding inwardly. “Not really.”

Cullen glanced back, surprised at her tone, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she sounded stiff and surly, and she tried to adjust her tone. “So you can see your soldiers? Spy on them for a change, perhaps?”

Cullen waggled his eyebrows and she laughed at him. She was overly tired after a long day, reading into things that didn’t mean anything and ready to confess things that ought not be confessed. “Surely they wouldn’t do naughty things while on guard duty,” she teased.

“Would you have?” Cullen countered. “I’ve heard tales in the barracks that you wouldn’t believe. I‘ve disciplined people for a few of them.” He raised an eyebrow, “Maybe you’d like to hear the stories?”

“I can probably imagine,“ Avexis flushed, and looked away again, “Maybe I‘ve encouraged such things in the past.”

“Ser What’s-His-Name?” Now he sounded grumpy.

“Pierre. His name was Pierre. And, no,” she glanced up at him again, but he was paying attention, his eyes worried. “A good memory,” she promised, “This templar was… fun.”

“Nothing wrong with a little fun,“ but Cullen squinted as he settled down next to her, close enough to feel his heat, “But just how many templars…”

“Only the two! I didn‘t go out of my way to seduce templars from their vows, though I know mages that did.” She laughed, “It isn‘t your business, you know,” she protested, even as she shifted to sit closer to him. “Two templars, that‘s all, and a handful of mages. Don’t be a… hypocrite. That word is the same in Common and Orlesian, isn’t it? It’s not as if you never noticed a mage…”

“There’s those who have caught my eye, and there’s people I’ve… slept with. I’ve only been with three women,” Cullen admitted. “All Templars or recruits.”

“Well, you’re Fereldan,” she shrugged, “Orlais is different, perhaps.”

“I think it must be. We got lectures about staying pure…”

“Not that they stuck,” Avexis giggled, and shifted even closer, shivering. Slowly, he raised his arm and placed it around her and pulled her closer. She relaxed against his side. He was just trying to keep her warmer, she told her naughtier self, quite firmly.

His arm felt better than right, and she had to hold herself back from snuggling into him, and taking what he wasn‘t meaning to offer.

“The stars here are breathtaking. I’ll have to see about finding some charts. Draconis,” he muttered, pointing out the familiar constellation. “Equinor…”

“Judex,” she pointed in turn, and they turned at the same time. “Cullen…” she breathed, a scarce inch away. “Cullen, I…” In an instant, she realized that the Inquisitor wouldn’t be sitting on a roof with her Commander, thinking about kissing him and… more. She stiffened, as her silly list of things she wanted to do before she died formally declared war on her new position as the person responsible for all the people asleep below them.

The probable end of the world was no time to start an affair.

“Ladybird,” he started, tightening his arm around her, and then he cleared his throat. “Don’t run away. Please.”

“I should sleep,” she whispered, willing her muscles to move. They seemed reluctant to obey her orders. A simple lean forward, on the other hand, and she would reach… her eyes dropped to his mouth, her own babbling, “Josie says we have to plan for Satinalia - a real celebration, to warm things up here. I’m supposed to go over banners and curtains and…” With great effort, she summoned all her willpower, and stood, his arm dropping from around her. “Cullen…” she tried again, stepping forward, despite everything, her heart screaming not to leave him there.

Face determined, he grabbed her hand, “Don’t go. Please.”

“Why should I stay?” She asked, looking down into his eyes, and wanting nothing more.

“Because I want…” Avexis looked up at him, surprised at his boldness, and he corrected, lamely, “Because you want to?”

Confused, she stared for a moment, and then smiled, and leaned over to peck him on his cheek, fast, before he could respond. “You’re too good,” she whispered, sliding her hand away. “À demain*, Cullen.”

She was down the tree before he could finish saying, “Not good enough, apparently.”

She leaned her forehead against the ladder at the words and the pain behind them, willing herself not to climb back up. She could never go up there again. Not unless she was willing to invite trouble for the Inquisition. Rumors about the Herald of Andraste and the Inquisition’s Commander were one thing. The same rumors were entirely different for the Inquisitor. The Inquisitor couldn’t afford a blackened reputation.

“Surmonter*, Avexis,” she whispered instead. “He’s not for you. You have to be the Inquisitor now.” She looked up, and stepped away from the ladder pointedly. “He deserves more than what the Inquisitor can give.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> À demain - 'til tomorrow.
> 
> Surmonter - get over it.


	22. Dreams, Cakes, and Motivation

A few days later, Avexis wandered into the Solarium - gaping at the fresco that were already begun on the walls. “These are beautiful,” she called out to Solas, surprised at his hidden talent.

“Thank you. I had an agreeable subject,” Solas wiped his brush. “Can I help you, Inquisitor?”

“I… I wanted to ask you about the Fade,” Avexis fidgeted. “I don’t know very much about you, Solas, and I thought I should ask about the orb, and the role you believe it to have taken in the opening of the Breach.”

“All right,” he smiled, “But let’s take this somewhere a little more interesting, shall we?”

The world shifted around her, and they were walking through the Chantry at Haven. Solas talked of the first days in Haven, just after the Breach, before she woke, before… she let the words wash over her without really hearing them, preoccupied with their location instead of what he was saying. “You were never going to wake up… Cassandra suspected me of duplicity. I told myself just one more attempt to close the Breach…” The other elf struck a familiar pose, reaching up with his hand towards the still swirling Breach, and Avexis shook her head in confusion. The whole situation was impossible, from the cold flakes of snow hitting her cheeks, to the sound of Harritt hammering away in the distance, to the still open Breach in the sky. “And then you woke, and the whole world changed.”

There was a tone in his voice that she didn’t care for, and she stared at her companion, confused. There was a flush on his cheeks and his hand was on her arm. She was close enough to see that he had freckles, so she stepped away. “I’d say it changed. Solas… none of this is real. It can’t be. Where are we? How is the Breach still…”

“We’re in Haven. It will always be important to you.” His smile was kind, and… her mark throbbed painfully. “You led us here. As for whether it is real or not, that is a matter of opinion.” He stepped towards her with the gait of a predator, placed a hand behind her back, and leaned.

“What… what are you doing?” She shoved him away with a hand to his chest, stumbling backwards. “Stop!”

“My apologies,” Solas straightened. “You wanted to speak to me so badly, you went to the trouble of looking for me in your dreams. I assumed…”

“You’d better let me wake up,” Avexis backed away. “This is just a dream. I don’t know how, or why you‘re doing this, but… I want to wake up. Now.”

“Of course.”

She bolted upright in her own bed, in her own lonely tower, with her heart pounding. Outside several ravens chattered on her balcony about food and mating - their conversations more clear than ever, now that she was practicing on a regular basis. “Merde,” she cursed. “He nearly…” she shivered, and threw her legs out of the bed. “Not in any lifetime,” she said aloud, “Nobody’s that lonely.”

She dressed with shaking hands, marched down the stairs to confront the mage, standing at his desk, forehead furrowed, and apparently buried in a book as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t just tried to…

“Sleep well?”

“You tried to kiss me!” Avexis hissed at him, snatching up one of his precious books and tossing it at his head. “What were you thinking?”

“I thought…” Solas straightened, and repeated, “A misunderstanding. One I will not make again.”

“Damn right you won’t,” Avexis shifted her marked hand into a fist to hide the sparks. “I wanted to talk to you about the Fade, and your past, Solas. I wanted to learn more about you. I didn’t want to… rouler une pelle* with you in a dream! I didn‘t even know such a thing was possible!” She had had erotic dreams, of course, but never with a real person, and she had always been aware of the danger involved with such encounters… Her mind whirred - if this was possible, and everyone dreamed, except for dwarves, then would it be possible to… she stopped the line of questioning firmly.

She didn’t need to be thinking about Cullen that way. Appearing in his dreams like a desire demon, and seeing him reach for her, with want in his eyes... “That’s just wrong,” she said aloud, not sure if she was addressing herself or the man in front of her. Maybe it was both.

“You’ve made that clear, and it‘s for the best,” Solas’ face was even more mask-like than usual. “What would you like to discuss?”

Avexis backed away again, her hand still tight, and her fists white-knuckled, her fingernails pressing painfully into her skin. “I… I don’t want to talk anymore.”

“Another time, perhaps,” Solas turned back to his paintings. “Forgive me, then, I have work to do. Let me know if I can assist further.”

Avexis fled upstairs, shivering, and she felt his eyes follow her upwards.

Dorian wasn’t in the library, for once, and so she continued up the next flight, towards her current project, willing her heart to stop pounding in fear. She leaned up against the stone wall of the stairs to let a scout pass by, and closed her eyes, trying to breathe slow, like Cassandra had taught her.

She had never feared Solas before. He was… harmless, for an apostate. But he had no business poking into her dreams and moving her around the Fade without her consent… she had most certainly not gone looking for him, nor had she dragged him to Haven-in-the-Fade. He was the Dreamer, not she. She had enough rare abilities, without adding those to the mix.

Not to mention that an affair that began in a dream was too much like being dragged into shadowy corners and darker closets. Of consent being assumed, instead of granted. Of secrets, and lies, and half-truths.

She was sick of secrets. If things had to be hidden, she didn’t want them at all. Wasn’t that the entire reason she refused to give into her feelings for…

The birds squawked their greetings, drawing her out of her darker thoughts, and a shower of feathers - and other, more dubious materials - drifted down onto Solas’ books far below. Avexis smiled, and offered her arm - her hand still shaking - to the fattest raven. “Bonjour, beau garçon.*” He flapped his wings, and stepped forward, preening. Avexis brought him over to the low table, and fed him a couple of the treats Leliana kept there to butter him up. “What do you have for me?” She asked lowly, glancing around to make sure they were truly alone.

It was her fifth trip to the Nightingale’s territory in the spymaster‘s absence, with the intent of subverting her favorite to her own use. And it was going splendidly.

The Baron ticked his head sideways, and then flew off to a far corner, coming back with a single shiny ruby earring, affection threading through his all-too-clever brain.

Perhaps it was going too well. She had never had to turn down a raven before. “Thank you,” Avexis cooed, and stroked his head. “I can’t take it, though. You’ll find a nice raven someday, and I won’t take the shiny things that should be hers.” The Baron fluttered to the table, and clawed it a couple of times, puffing up his chest. “Of course, I like you,” she laughed. “You’re my favorite, you know that. But you’ll want eggs someday, whatever you think now, and I can’t give you that. You should have eggs, a fine fellow like you.”

The Baron wobbled his head back and forth and let out a soft caw.

A dozen images flashed across her brain, of people Avexis vaguely recognized, of Vivienne asking the new librarian about alchemy, and then the spymaster and the King of Ferelden, way back in Redcliffe. Victorious, she fed the Baron another treat. “What would I do without you?” She smiled, and stood. “You don’t need me to help yourself, do you?”

The Baron cawed again, and helped himself to another treat, hopping back and pecking at it cheekily.

“Didn’t think so,” she laughed, and stroked his head again. “The cook said she was making blueberry cakes today. I’ll see if I can snitch one for you when I go out with Sera. No promises, but I‘ll try. If Cole does his part with the mint and wheel of cheese, Cook will be sweet and it will work. The mice are where I asked them to be.”

Baron cawed his goodbye as she dropped down the stairs.

She made her way out the second floor exit, towards Vivienne’s balcony - made up with a chaise and a pile of books. Avexis preferred to keep her distance, and so merely nodded towards the other mage, occupied with reading, while she made her way down the stairs and out the main doors, heading towards the tavern.

In Sera’s little nook, half-hemmed fabric for curtains lay everywhere as she stepped through the door. The work that had been done was exemplary, but Sera couldn’t ever stick to just one task. She hopped from thing to thing like a sparrow on a roof - and somehow, everything managed to be finished in the end, as if she had never stopped at all. Avexis wished she had such a gift.

“There’s you!” Sera crowed, hopping down from a tottering chair from where she was placing possibly stolen knickknacks on her shelves. The hutch had been procured with difficulty from the new quartermaster. Avexis had pulled a few strings, knowing her friend felt that stuff needed a place, even though furnishings were in high demand and Josie was apportioning necessary furniture only.

“Ready to steal some cakes?” Avexis grinned, trying to smile her way out of the lingering discomfort of her earlier dream. She didn’t want to get Sera started on Solas. Mentioning the other elf tended to derail all their plans.

“I don’t see why. You know he won’t eat ‘em,” Sera rolled her eyes. “Your jackboot is too uptight to gobble up anything I offer. Iffen you do it, he’d eat proper, your Cully-Wully.” She puckered her lips, and made kissing noises.

“It’s not like that,” Avexis stated, automatically, “Besides, this way, you get one over on Cook, and get to watch him squirm,” Avexis pointed out, trying not to sound desperate. If Sera was backing out, then… “You know he loves the blueberry ones… he’ll eat it. Just tell him… tell him he looks hungry. He does.” She flushed a little, “He always does.”

“Whatever you say, Ladybird.”

Avexis froze, “Where did you hear that name?”

“Places. Bruce might be whispering it around. Why? Your Hot Templar call you that in bed?”

“We aren’t sleeping together,” Avexis hissed.

“Never said you were. From what I hear, mages don‘t sleep with people, you just shimmy your skirts up and have at it. All wrong, the way you go about… things,” Sera blew a raspberry, “And don’t do that.“

“Do what?“ Avexis snapped her eyes back up to her friend, shoving her shadows away.

“Get lost in your head again. You go all wobbly when you’re thinking about the Circle. So don’t think about it.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Whatever. What happened, happened. Not going to change nothing by dwelling, are ya? Look, if we’re not going to do this, then I’m going out on my roof. Skinner’s supposed to be fighting one of those Valleys Something-or-other mercs Bull shouted up. Qunari women… and I wanna watch. Woof.” Sera’s eyes glazed over. “Maybe one of ‘em would like a cake?”

“No! Let’s… let’s do this,” Avexis grabbed at her. “I want to do something nice for… him.” She flushed. “And you’re right, I need to get my mind off… things. Something… strange happened this morning.”

“Strange things always happen around you. Would think you’d be used to it. There are still easier ways to get him to eat regular, I say,” grumbled Sera. “Let’s make it fast, then. Got things to do.”

Cook was sweet, laughing about her kitty dancing like a madman under the influence of catmint, and too amused to bully the elves both working and begging treats from her kitchen. She surrendered a whole plate of cakes to the two women, and waved them out, still chuckling.

“That was too easy, I‘ll have to do something worse later. That nasty biddy deserves it, way she treats her people,” Sera sniffed, and grabbed the cakes from Avexis. “Gimme that. Take three, at least. You’re going to go feed that bloody raven, I know. Better watch it, he’s getting fat, and Leliana is gonna put him on a diet.” She eyed her friend, “And you could stand to gain a bit.”

“Cullen can’t eat that many-” Avexis stood there, statue-like, two cakes in her right hand and one in her left. Sera had at least another dozen…

“I ain’t going to Cullen,” cackled the archer. “You are. Who do ya think the other cake is for? Should be lucky I left you three.” She hefted the plate over her head and ran off. “Woof, here I come!” she crowed, and ran for the training ring, scaling the steps as if she were flying.

Avexis stood, stunned into betrayed silence, her mouth open, and shifted her stare up to the roof of Cullen’s tower just visible over the wall of the upper courtyard, a place she had yet to go in the daylight. She made her way over to the stairs, and climbed slowly and deliberately.

It shouldn’t be this difficult. It was a visit, between friends - a business meeting between Inquisitor and Commander - there were a dozen reasons she could make an excuse to see him. She wouldn’t be interrupting his work. She was his work. She was supposed to be in charge.

She didn’t feel like much of an authority figure with her hands full of cake.

Souffle de Créateur, he slept in that tower now. She didn’t need to think about where he slept, or spent his days, or she would be tempted…

The Inquisitor couldn’t afford temptation. It was bad enough seeing him across the War Table everyday since their arrival, trying not to look him in the eye and still look like she was paying attention...

She stood at the top of the steps facing his office, and then took a shaky breath, trying to convince herself she didn’t need to use Fadestep to leave a mysterious cake on his desk. It was just that mess of a dream with Solas playing havoc with her nerves. If she could confront L‘Oeuf*, she could speak briefly to Cullen in a professional manner, hand him a single cake, and say ‘bonjour‘, no harm done.

But before she could enter, his door opened, and the man himself stepped out into the sunshine, yelling for a runner.

All her plans fell into pieces the minute he looked up and saw her.

< _EotD_ >

Confused, Cullen stared at Avexis, her cheeks flushed and awkwardly holding three not-so-tiny cakes. “Can I help you, Inquisitor? You look like you have your hands full.”

“I… Yes.” Avexis flushed a deeper rose, and thrust the single cake towards him. “This is for you. Tu as faim*. I mean, you’re hungry. Or you look hungry, or…” she slumped, “You like the blueberry ones, I know. Take it, please, so I can leave and die of embarrassment somewhere else.”

“It’s… for me?” Cullen reached out and took the cake almost shyly. “Thank you, Inquisitor.”

“Maker, quit calling me that,” she whispered. “It sounds completely wrong. You can‘t call me Inquisitor all the time.”

“Sorry, orders are orders,” he smirked. “Josie has me on a tight leash of appropriate behavior, or I would have dropped half a dozen impressive titles for nobles too puffed up on their own importance.” He cupped the cake like something precious, and nodded towards his office, “Did you intend to come in? I’ve made some improvements since your last visit.”

Avexis swallowed her refusal. Surely seeing his new home all fixed up was an appropriate use of her time - and she had nothing else pressing at this moment… “Yes. All right, I’ll…” she stepped in, and he swung the door shut after her.

Her eyes adjusted quickly to the dimmer light, noting how the sun slanted across the room from the hole in the roof, dust motes swirling randomly in the beam. She smiled at the bookshelves he had repaired, polished, and stacked with his own reference volumes, and from the look of it, a copy of Varric’s Hard in Hightown. He followed her eyes to the shelf and rubbed the back of his neck, “Varric insisted. Said I needed something to do besides knit and… polish armor in my downtime.”

Avexis’ face fell. “I’m sorry I haven’t been by, I’ve just been…”

“Busy,” he smiled, trying to assuage her guilt, “It’s fine, Ladybird. You don’t have to come. I’m glad you’re sleeping. And now that you‘re healed up, I‘m directing our troops to your next destination,” he nodded towards his desk, piled elbow high with scrolls and missives and maps. “Crestwood, Hawke said. It’s supposed to be a pretty place, when it isn’t raining,” he added dryly. He glanced down at the cake in his hand. “Do you mind if I eat this? I don’t want to be rude, but… I missed breakfast.”

“And lunch,” Avexis added. “The bells rang ten minutes ago.” She flushed, “I slept in. Unintentionally.”

“I was worried I had counted right,” Cullen grimaced. “I’ve been so…”

“Busy,” she supplied.

“Exactly,” he lifted the cake and took a bite, chewing and swallowing self-consciously. Avexis measured his bites with the anxious ghost of worry in her eyes. “Is something the matter?” he asked, once his mouth was clear.

“No,” she whispered, crossing over to his desk, and clearing a small space, and putting down the other two cakes. “Nothing’s wrong.” She met his eyes, her own dark and inscrutable, “Eat these, too. I‘ll make it up to Baron Plucky. I‘ll see you in the War Room later.”

Cullen crooked up a corner of his mouth at the mention of the vicious raven, and she stared at his lips, sweet dots of purple crumbs scattered across them, and swallowed visibly as he brushed them off with a single thumb. “At your order, Inquisitor.”

She fled, all too predictably.

One of these days, he would find a way to make her stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rouler une pelle - literally, 'spin a shovel', but as a slang term, French kissing, or kissing with tongue.
> 
> Bonjour, beau garcon - Hello, handsome boy.
> 
> L'Oeuf - The Egg. It amuses me that it sounds like Wolf in English. Sue me. Maybe he was always supposed to be the Dread Egg.
> 
> Souffle de Createur - Maker's Breath
> 
> Tu as faim - You're hungry.
> 
> In addition, I need to mention that the subversion of Baron Plucky was a prompt given by Marika Haliwell, which both iduna and I greatly approved of and ran with. 
> 
> I love prompts. I can't guarantee I'll use them, but it never hurts to suggest things. :D


	23. Gifts, Good Girls, and Really Bad Jokes

The War Meeting that afternoon was too well attended. Avexis felt like a butterfly - her wings stretched and pinned in place on a piece of silk behind glass for the Inquisition to stare at and discuss her rarity.

“Given that you elected Tranquility before you could specialize, we’ve taken the liberty of selecting instructors that might be able to help you make an appropriate choice,” Josie spoke, checking several items off her never-ending list.

“It’s largely a sop for the different fields that you’ve shown promise in,” Vivienne added, with her usual tone of superiority. “We all know that you’ll do what is proper and best, and choose the Knight-Enchanter arts. The instructor I’ve chosen is even an elf - she’ll make something brilliant out of you, my dear. A polished jewel befitting the Chantry you serve.”

“The Knight-Enchanter field is based in elvhen traditions,” Solas added solemnly. “It’s by far the most appropriate…”

“What about the other options?” Avexis interrupted, her mind shrinking away from the idea of fighting on the front lines. “I don’t think I should just dismiss them out of hand. Didn’t one of the instructors come all the way from Nevarra? That’s a long way to travel to be told that I had no intention of considering…”

Cassandra cleared her throat, “A Mortalitasi has decided to join the Inquisition, yes. He’s a… decent man. We‘ve… talked.” Her tone suggested she was trying very hard to be fair.

“I don’t recommend the Rift Magic specialist,” Solas frowned, “I’m not sure her practices are… safe. She seems -”

“The bloody woman doesn’t even remember her own name,” Dorian interjected. “You’re already an expert at rift magic. She can’t teach you anything you don’t already know, or will figure out on your own.”

“We might get along,” Avexis tried to joke, “If she’s as mixed up as me… I have problems with names, too.”

“She calls herself, ‘Your Trainer’,” Vivienne rapped her fingers on the table. “I’m sure she was brilliant, once, before her largely experimental field took its effect. But I’ve asked around, and no one actually remembers who she was before the Breach - the overly secret practices of that pointless Mage Collective is responsible, I have no doubt. I don’t think you should trust yourself around a mage who is, overall, a mystery, child.”

“What’s wrong with the Mortalitasi?” Avexis tried. “It‘s a respected field with ages of tradition behind it.”

Vivienne wrinkled her nose, “No offense to current company, but should the Inquisitor be known for death magic? It’s inelegant…”

“Offense taken. No one can accuse me of not being elegant,” Dorian huffed. “Viuus Anaxas is at the top of his field. My own father tried to engage his services when I passed my Harrowing and was looking to specialize. Sadly, I had to leave before…”

“We don’t need your life story,” Cassandra criticized, folding her arms. “My uncle is a Mortalitasi, Avexis. I am… biased, I admit. Nevarrans care more about the dead then their own relatives. But my own experiences aside, you should choose the field that interests you most,” The warrior glanced at Vivienne, and stiffly continued, “not what others expect of you. Knight-Enchanters earn respect, certainly, but joining their ranks may not be the best fit.” She straightened herself, “I would suggest you speak to each of them at length before making your decision.”

Avexis stared down at the three options before her and nodded slightly. “I’ll do that now. Thank you all for your… opinions.”

Vivienne patted her shoulder as she left the room. “I’ll send Commander Helaine in directly, and lend you her book, dearest. “Rang and Rôle dans la Victoire*” is in Orlesian, child. That will help you make up for your Tranquil delay.”

Solas exited without speaking, Cassandra and the advisors directly afterward, Cullen glancing behind with a worried look on his face, leaving Avexis alone with her thoughts and an indignant necromancer.

“That was the most obvious Southern mage prejudice I’ve seen since I left Minrathous. You’re not going to do it, are you?” Dorian challenged, refusing to leave.

“I don’t know,” Avexis smoothed the pages out before her. “Vivienne has a point. It’s important that the Inquisitor be someone others can look up to. Becoming a Knight-Enchanter is one of the few roles a mage can take and be respected.”

“You’re not just the Inquisitor. You’re Avexis.“ Dorian slapped his hand onto the table. “You’re going to be a hero, no matter what you study. You already are.” He frowned, “Your problem, Avexis, is that for some reason, you want to be known as a good Circle mage, obedient and meek.” He leaned in. “You’re not a good girl, Avexis.” She looked away, “You’ll never fit into the box that the Southern Chantry has supplied for you.” He narrowed his eyes. “Forget talking to the instructors. You need to talk to Bull.”

Avexis jerked her head up, “Bull, why…”

“Because he’ll tell you exactly what he thinks. Talk to Sera. You know she finds you spooky. Ask her if she thinks you’ll make a good Knight-Enchanter. Talk to Cullen. Talk to your friends that fear magic, not the ones that think they know everything about it. And then, decide.” He smirked, “I’ll be waiting. Forget dried up tomes on ‘Roles and Rank’ - unless you need to fall asleep. I have just the book to spark your interest, and practical demonstrations, besides. I got a crate from Qarinus.”

_< EotD>_

Bull was sprawled out full length in the tavern, but thankfully alone, instead of having several barmaids draped over him in various states of giggling. She thanked the Maker for small mercies. “Hey, Saare-Boss. What’s up?”

“You already know,” Avexis criticized, pulling up a chair next to him and slumping in it, mocking his habitual posture when off duty. “I’m supposed to make a decision about further studies. I’m years overdue, thanks to my Tranquil ‘delay‘, as Vivienne is choosing to call it, and now I’m supposed to throw myself into an entirely new, more difficult field of study, even though I still can’t throw anything colder than a snowball.”

Bull snorted, “I didn’t think you’d have trouble making up your mind.”

Avexis looked down, “Yes, I know. Knight-Enchanters are…”

“Uh-uh, you don’t fight from the front. You’re known for the big picture, Boss, not slashing. You think ahead, while I rush in. I’m your bodyguard, remember? I stand in front of you. Plus, there’s the dragon thing.” The large man shivered in excitement. “Knight-Enchanters are known for fighting dragons, am I right? You really want to get that close to one of ‘em, while it’s blasting away inside your head? You’d rather keep your distance, mess with _their_ heads a bit, if you gotta kill one of ‘em.”

Avexis nodded slowly, “You make a lot of sense, Bull.”

“Besides, Dorian already told you that you might have a talent for talking to the dead, back in the Fallow Mire. You said you were listening to the bones. If you have trouble, I bet he’d help you out. Have you seen the collection he had that Magister Maevaris send down for him? He’s got baby dragon bones in there!”

Avexis blinked, “Bull, exactly how much time have you been spending with Dorian?”

Bull winked - maybe. “It’s too early to kiss and tell, Boss. See ya.”

Avexis made her way up to the second floor, to hear crashing and banging from Sera’s room. She opened the door, and the woman was cursing, half stuck under her enormous hutch with little pieces of knickknacks scattered everywhere on the floor as she struggled beneath. “Sera!” She rushed to her side, and helped her shove it upright. “What were…” But Sera was scrabbling through the remaining debris.

“Got it!” Sera crowed, and held up a skull. “This is for you.”

Avexis took it. “Why are you giving me a…”

“It’s a skull, right?! A Nevarran skull!” Sera beamed. “Looked into it, didn’t I? Did watcha call it - ’research’.” Avexis folded her hands around the skull, looking doubtful. “All right, Dorian might have helped… You’ll need a few of those, for practice. That bugger Viuus said so, and I was like, ‘I think I have one of those!’.” She nodded at the skull. “Now you’ve got a head start.”

Avexis sat down hard on the window seat. “Death rituals aren‘t part of the Chant of Light, Sera.”

“I know that, and it doesn‘t matter.” Sera settled next to her and drew up her legs into a bow underneath her. “You’re not all flashing swords and killing dragons. You bloody talk to the things. Don’t claim you don’t. I saw you in the Hinterlands, in Haven. You know this is closer to the stuff you do naturally than any of that other shite.” She sniffed, and reached out to rap on Avexis’ head three times, very gently, “And I don’t want you to end up with your brains even more scrambled, ya know? You got a rift in your hand, and you have to get close enough to the big ones as it is. Don‘t push your luck, I say.”

“You aren’t going to… fear me, if I do this?” Avexis asked lowly.

“Dorian’s not scary. He’s fun,” Sera sniffed and rubbed her nose on her sleeve. “You’re already scary. This ain’t gonna make it worse. Yeah, if you were anyone else, I‘d say chatting at the dead wasn‘t the way to go. Dead things should stay dead - but… you‘re not. You‘re you.” She shoved her shoulder, hard. “Don’t make me get sappy. Go talk to the dead guy and get on with you. You got stuff to do, and I’ve got to clear up this mess.”

_< EotD>_

Avexis had just entered the Main Hall, to a cluster of ‘Inquisitor’, and ‘Your Worships’, when she heard her title called out far more stridently. “Inquisitor!” Vivienne was marching towards her, outwardly as immaculate as always, and her eyes the only sign that she was feeling anything. “A word, if you please?”

Avexis sighed, “Of course, Madame.”

“I understand you’ve been talking to Viuus.” Vivienne radiated disapproval. “My dear, you cannot be serious. Think of your station, your…”

Avexis blew out, once, thinking about her station, and trying to hold on to her temper. Possibly it would be worse for the Inquisitor to lose her temper at a member of her Inner Circle than to be known for death magic. She opened her mouth, but shut it again. Her struggle through the snow, using her angers and desires to save her own life played out, demanding to be taken into account, and she clenched her jaw. Perhaps it really didn‘t matter how she behaved, and whether or not she was the Inquisitor or just Enchanter Avexis of a Circle that didn‘t exist anymore. Perhaps it was worth taking the risk of… “Putain, je suis crevé *,” she said aloud, and as Vivienne’s eyes narrowed, she continued, “Vivienne, I am not just talking to Viuus. He’s agreed to take me on as a pupil.” She lifted her chin. “You might remember that I am the Inquisitor. I’m also the Herald of Andraste, for good or ill. I don’t believe that the Maker would have given me my - rarer abilities - without intending me to make use of them. As a Knight-Enchanter, I would be a risk in the front lines of a dragon attack, due to distraction while they chat at me about how small I am. It’s best for me to keep my distance, and therefore, my focus. I have great respect for the Knight-Enchanters of my acquaintance, for Commander Helaine, for you. But I will never join their ranks.”

“I see,” Vivienne’s voice was very quiet and Avexis fought the desire to shiver. “Is this the magister’s doing?”

“He’s not a magister!” Avexis exploded. “Dorian is an Altus. A hereditary title. His father happens to be a magister, that’s all. And they’re estranged, I believe. Yes, he introduced me to the possibilities. No, I wasn’t drawn to necromancy before I met him. But damn it, Vivienne,” she nearly stopped short when she realized she had used the mage’s given name twice instead of her title, but pressed forward, all the same, “ _I don’t want to end up insane._ I’m dangerously close when things overwhelm me. Who knows what could emerge from the Fade at the wrong moment? My other option is ‘Your Trainer’, and she is… worse than I am!”

“Very well,” Vivienne cleared her throat, “I hope you don’t regret your decision, Inquisitor.”

“I doubt I will. In any case, it‘s my mistake to make.” Avexis pressed her lips together, “They all are.”

Vivienne’s eyes were dark and calculating. “So they are.” She drew herself up regally. “I will go inform Commander Helaine that you aren’t interested in what she has to offer.”

“I did it myself. She agreed with me, after I explained my reasons.” Avexis hissed. “I’m not a child anymore, Vivienne. I don’t live in your tower. You live in my keep. You don’t have any influence over me that I don’t allow. Bonjour.”

Vivienne nodded briefly, and walked away, to the hushed whispers of the Great Hall.

That night, Avexis shivered on the balcony of her room, worried into sleeplessness. Vivienne would retaliate - she knew all too well that she played a long game. The mages in Montsimmard whispered in corners about the years she spent in the Free Marches, studying and fighting to be transferred to Orlais, plotting to become First Enchanter at Montsimmard, and then again pushing to be allowed to visit the Empress’ court.

Madame de Fer had invested decades into being relevant. Avexis had made a decision today that went precisely in the opposite direction. She had chosen a field that, outside of Nevarra and the Imperium, was disdained, at best, and labeled blood magic at worst - however falsely.

But she had made up her mind. She wouldn’t go out of her way to endear herself to the woman. She didn’t want to fear her, either. There were scarier things in Thedas than Madame de Fer‘s games. Most of them appeared in her dreams on a regular basis. One of the others was her own Ambassador - capable of toppling chains of succession with a single, well-placed glove.

Hopefully Josie was still on her side after today. She couldn’t bear having her advisors judge her, as well as every member of the Inquisition. If they were so against necromancy, why would they bother giving her the option, anyway?

Avexis’ eyes were drawn to the few lights still burning around the keep - torches on the battlements, mainly, little circles of light that illuminated guard stations and fluttering banners. The tavern’s lights went out as she watched - the few hard-drinkers spilling out into the limited light of the courtyard. They would hear from their superior officers about their propensities, she had no doubt. Cullen’s Knight-Captain Rylen ran a tight ship, despite his quirky sense of humor.

Skyhold looked… like a home. A large, well-defended home with its own tavern, but a home nonetheless.

And then her eyes, tracking the guards’ movements, landed on Cullen’s tower.

The light from his torches burnt bright through the hole in his roof. Her Commander was awake at three in the morning.

There were a thousand and one reasons why the Inquisitor shouldn’t be seen in her Commander’s quarters after dark, and only about three that made it acceptable behavior. There were no dragons in the sky, so that took it down to two… Corypheus‘ location was unknown, so that made it one…

And there wasn’t a Blight. So much for reasonable excuses.

She was already on her feet, and making her way out of her room and down towards the main hall, softly and quietly, nodding to various guards as if she had every right to be there, trying to shake off the feeling like she trespassed in her own keep.

There was no curfew at Skyhold. Not for the Inquisitor. Not for any mage. It was silly to feel like an interloper.

Solas was already fast asleep in his own room - somewhere. That relieved her of that worry - she would encounter more guards if she was forced to avoid him by going through the upper courtyard to climb the stairs to the battlements. The bridge that directly connected the keep was more secret, more convenient…

She was so fucking tired of secrets. The fierce surge of her anger stopped her from knocking, and she leaned her head against the door, fighting the emotion for a moment until she felt like she dared continue.

She lifted a heavy hand and knocked softly, and after a second, a gruff, “Enter,” came from inside the room. “Report.” Cullen didn’t look up. He had removed his armor - it hung from the stand behind him. A worn cotton shirt hugged the muscles of his shoulders instead, and it looked like he had tugged the laces at his throat loose - perhaps in a fit of impatience. His hair was mussed and wildly curly - making him look about ten years younger than his true age. “It had better be something good, Bruce, to bother me at this hour.”

“Am I intruding?” Avexis asked, trying not to stammer.

“Inquisitor!” Cullen stood immediately. “I apologize, I thought you were…”

“Bruce, I know,” Avexis tried to smile. “I couldn’t sleep. Do you mind if I… use your roof?”

Cullen frowned, “Don’t you get a view from your balcony?”

“It’s… not just the view,” Avexis fidgeted. “If you mind, I’ll leave. I didn’t mean to disturb your work or your sleep - I know how busy we all are. It was… a hectic day. I can‘t calm my mind.”

“I was just about to quit for the day. Quit again, that is,” Cullen‘s vice was dry. “I just remembered I needed to approve - well, that doesn’t matter. It‘s done now.” He tapped his papers on end, lining up the edges deliberately, “Would you like company?”

“I would, if you aren’t… tired.” Avexis pushed the words out with difficulty.

“I’m always tired,” Cullen huffed. “As you well know, fatigue doesn’t necessarily equal sleep these days.”

“If it did, I would spend my days sleeping,” Avexis agreed. “I’d sleep more than Solas ever could.”

“Go on up,” he offered. “I’ll grab my coat and join you momentarily.”

Avexis scaled the ladder, and then the tree, noting his bed in the corner. She settled herself, relatively comfortably, and Cullen followed, wrapped more warmly. She shoved her hand into her own coat pocket, touching something that she had nearly forgotten about entirely.

“I’m going to miss Satinalia, while I’m in Crestwood, did Josie tell you?”

“She did. Unfair, that you‘ve put so much planning into the event, only to miss it entirely.”

“I don’t mind. It’s the first year without Galyan, and I’d rather be busy, I think. Plenty of business to handle in Crestwood.“ She was quiet, while she wrapped her cold fingers around the small object she had kept there for months. “But I… have something for you.” She pulled out the little Mabari totem she had rescued from the guard in the future. “It’s not much,” she dropped it in his lap.

“What’s this?” He laughed, and lifted it towards the moonlight to see it more clearly. “Avexis, this is…” he cleared his throat. “I… thank you. I love it.” He traced the wooden carving gently with his fingertips. “Where did you find such a thing?”

“I took it off a prison guard in Redcliffe. The other Redcliffe.” Avexis huddled herself back into her coat. “I thought of you.”

His eyes flashed to her, “You thought of me - there? Then?”

“Of course I did.” She took a deep breath. “You had mounted three assaults on Redcliffe, trying to get… our people back. They…”

“They all failed,” Cullen tightened his fingers around the carving. “They would have failed. That castle is all but impenetrable. I spent hours trying to find another way. I didn’t want you to risk… yourself.” His eyes met hers, troubled.

“I know,” Avexis said softly. “Je comprehends, Cullen. But I… I have to risk myself. Now, more than ever. It‘s in the job description.”

Cullen opened his hand and looked down the Mabari again. “She’s a fine girl to stand guard over my paperwork.”

“Girl?” Avexis squinted. “How can you tell?”

“Definitely a female.” He grinned, “The girl dogs are fiercer. The males are larger, more muscular, but… it’s the women you should fear. Much like you.” He cleared his throat, “Word is, you went up against one of your own today. Is it true?”

“If you mean Madame de Fer, yes,” Avexis voice was harsher than she intended. “I did. I’m… not meant for the Knight-Enchanter role. I would have been miserable, and more than useless. I don‘t have the focus for the front lines.”

“I’m glad of it,” Cullen murmured, and turned to face her. “I worried about you. Vivienne has her virtues - she doesn’t hate Templars on principle, much like you - but she was trying to control you. The Game doesn’t belong in the heart of the Inquisition. Or in yours,” he finished lamely. “You’re… too honest.”

“You worry about me? You think I‘m honest?“ Avexis blinked, “I didn’t expect you to approve. Everyone seemed to think that I should make a statement of supporting the Chantry, or wrap myself in my racial heritage.”

“The Chantry will never look the same again, and your cultural heritage is more Circle mage than elven. You can support either in any way you like, just by being yourself.” He cleared his throat, “But you might want to have a word with Cassandra. I believe she worries you will forget about the living.” He looked at her sideways. “You told me you heard Galyan, when you fled Haven. The spirits of the dead linger in the Fade, we’re told, before crossing to be with the Maker, leaving impressions of who they were in life. My - albeit limited - understanding is that is what makes your newfound studies possible. Just don’t… don’t go looking for the people you’ve lost, and forget to live, Ladybird.”

Avexis shivered, “The thought never occurred to me.”

Cullen grinned, threw the carving up into the air, and caught it again. “Nothing to worry about then. Necromancy suits you.” He paused, “Dorian will keep you from ‘entombing’ yourself, even if Viuus tries to ‘bury’ you in new studies. Do try not to work yourself into an early ‘grave‘, will you? I‘d hate to see you sacrifice yourself on the ‘pyre‘ of overwork.”

“Now who is making the bad puns?” Avexis teased, absurdly delighted at his mediocre efforts. “Don’t worry about me, Cullen. I’m doing better, I think. Hearing Galyan, after Haven - I think it helped me let him go.” Her mouth twisted, “Besides, you know what they say about Necromancers.”

“What’s that?”

“We give the gift of life.”

Cullen groaned, “Next time, bring your knitting. And don‘t let Dorian share any more undead jokes with you. He‘ll create a monster.”

“Well, you know what they say about Necromancers…”

“STOP.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rang and Rôle dans la Victoire - Rank and Role in Victory. Actual codex entry that you get from Vivienne.
> 
> Putain, je suis crevé. - Fuck it, I'm tired.
> 
>  
> 
> A major trigger comes up in the next chapter - there will be a warning in the chapter summary as well, for discussion of non-con/dub-con. Let's just call it what it is: rape. I will try to make it possible for people to skip that section - be safe, please. It will be posted Monday.


	24. Dragons, Demons, and Developments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Triggers for discussion of rape. If you don't want to hear Avexis' whole backstory, you'll want to stop reading from when she wakes up in the tent.
> 
> Be safe, guys. This chapter is one of the hardest things I've ever written. I don't want to hurt people, but it is canon. In Haven, Avexis says 'I might be bothered by events that have occurred while I was in this state," when Mother Giselle asks her if she would prefer to not be Tranquil.

Crestwood was a dripping, soggy mess, from one end of the wide spot in the muddy road to the other. Dams breaking, rifts beneath the surface of the lake, undead absolutely everywhere, and the hint of something other on the corner of her brain, whispering.

“I just got here, myself. But when I arrived, there was a small problem…”

Avexis tried to concentrate on Hawke‘s words. They were important, she knew that. More important - probably - than the dragon on the outskirts of town who was intrigued with her presence. She was hoping the rain would keep it in one place until she could…

But her thoughts were wandering. Hawke, she reminded herself. Hawke was the important person at the moment. “I should warn you, before you go in, there’s been a… development,” Hawke hesitated.

“Development?” Varric’s eyebrows shot up. “Hawke, you know I love you, but who’s dead now?”

“Nobody’s dead!” Hawke flushed, “Yet. But when I got here I found my-”

“Is that Varric? Is he here already?”

“-sister.” Hawke finished, as a dark-haired woman with only a passing resemblance to Hawke emerged from within, flinging herself at Varric.

“Oh, Varric, it’s so good to see you!”

“Sunshine!” Varric embraced her tightly, but eyeballed his best friend over her sister’s shoulder. “Hawke, if this means what I think it means…”

“I had nothing to do with it,” Hawke protested, hands in front of her like a shield. “I thought I was only meeting Stroud. I swear. Maker, Varric, I haven’t even seen him yet. But he _is_ a Warden… the Inquisition isn‘t the only one looking for answers, Varric.”

“Sizzling Andraste on a piece of flatbread, Hawke,” Varric hissed, “I have the Inquisitor with me! She could decide to arrest him… try him for his crimes! After all these years trying to keep him hidden, you‘re telling me…”

“Of course he’s here,” Bethany pulled away from the hug and folded her arms, her posture resembling her sister more than she did physically. “I wasn’t about to leave him alone! It’s not just Justice anymore, it’s the Calling. I thought Stroud might be able to help. Anders is too young to be hearing…”

“Don’t mind me,” Avexis interrupted, eyes gleaming softly in the dim light, “but are you saying the abomination that blew up the Kirkwall Chantry is here? Now?”

Bethany bristled, “He’s not an abomination! He’s my…” she glanced at Hawke.

“Do go on,” her sister waved her hand. “I promise I won’t cut off everything. I‘ll leave enough of him to send back to the Maker. We‘ll have a nice pyre. I‘ll let you start the fire and everything. It‘ll be touching.”

Bethany narrowed her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Varric, but I feel like the Orlesian translation left something out,” Avexis frowned. “The book never said Anders and Bethany were involved.”

“They weren’t,” Varric cleared his throat, and toed the mud at the entrance with his boot. “It happened… later. After publication.” He glanced back, and motioned her to come closer. Avexis agreed, cautiously eying the sisters. “Look, Hawke’s in denial,” Varric hissed, “and has been for a couple years - ever since they split ways. Just… play along, so she doesn’t come unhinged. Sunshine won‘t hurt anybody, but Hawke‘s…” He glanced back at his best friend again, who had both fists clenched at her sides, the daggers at the small of her back too close to her hands. “Too late. Here we go. Hold onto something. Stabbity has a temper, and Sunshine doesn‘t take her opinions sitting down.”

“Forgive me for not wanting Justice fucking my little sister!” Hawke exploded. “Anders is one thing, but his glowy roommate is a completely different matter!”

Varric sighed, looked directly at Avexis, and mouthed Bethany’s response as she said it, “As if you can talk about glowing lovers. How is the magical fisting elf these days? Has he squeezed any hearts out of people‘s chests, lately? Left anyone for three years, so that they shrivel up with bitterness? Or aren’t you over that yet?”

“Leave Fenris out of it!” Varric sighed and shook his head in silent apology.

“Nothing would give me more pleasure,” spat Bethany. “But you didn’t give me an option, did you? No, you picked a lover without my input. Oh wait… I did the same thing to you! Because it‘s none of your business who I choose to spend my life with. You should be happy for me, that I could pick up the pieces and move on with someone who truly cares for me, the way I am!”

“Never have I been so pleased to be an only child,” Dorian muttered to Avexis, whilst stroking his moustache.

“You said it.” Avexis agreed. “Hawke,” she tried to interrupt, “do you think we could…”

Hawke held up her hand, stalling Avexis’ attempts to get them back on track. “At least Mother isn’t alive to watch you deny everything Da ever tried to teach you about safe Fade practices…”

“You have no idea what Da taught me! You couldn‘t find the Fade in a coma!” snapped Bethany. “Anders is a good man.”

“Oh, because apostates are such stable people,” sneered Hawke, hand still in the air inches in front of Avexis‘ face. Avexis resisted the desire to lick it, or do something even more absurd, her impatience growing by the minute while the siblings squabbled. “Conveniently forgotten all about Father moving us all over the countryside to stay ahead of the Templars, have you?”

“Da did the best he could! Besides, we have a house on the Storm Coast, Hawke, we don’t live on the run at all… we hadn‘t seen a Templar in months until recently-”

“I have a house, too, or don’t you remember? You know, the one _you_ insisted we buy back for Mother’s sake? Before you decided to give everything up for lost and join the Circle, while I was gone trying to earn the money? You leaving drove her into the arms of a necromancing madman!” Dorian and Avexis both winced, but Hawke pushed her advantage, “It‘s your boyfriend‘s fault that Fenris and I can‘t live in it!”

“He’s not my boyfriend! He’s my husband! Stop talking like I’m a child! And quit dragging Mother into this. She would have understood why I love him,” Bethany slumped, “It’s not as if Da wasn‘t a…”

“He was an apostate, yes, but he wasn’t an abomination! She wanted better for you,” Hawke’s voice had turned softer, more like the shy woman Avexis thought she was when they had first met. First impressions could be so deceiving. “I want better for you. Anything is better than living with Justice.”

Bethany sighed, “What we have is better than anything I‘ve ever had, sister. I have nothing, if I don‘t have him.”

Hawke opened her mouth again, but didn’t get an opportunity to speak.

“Bethy?” A too-slender man, his blond, wavy hair gathered into a low ponytail, came to the entrance of the cave, his shadow stretching out in front of him, casting his angular face into shade. “I heard shouting. I thought I heard…” He straightened, “Hawke. You’re… here. Stroud said you were coming… Don‘t yell at Bethany. It… it was my idea, finding Stroud. I‘d never walk her into danger, but she wouldn‘t stay home…”

“I won’t leave you alone,” Bethany reinforced, eyes hooded. “Not with Justice, and not with the Calling. You know me better than that.”

“Anders,” Hawke closed her eyes, and reached out her hand. He took it with a smile, and she yanked him towards her. “Keep your bloody hands off my sister, Justice.”

Before the argument could alight anew, Bethany reached out and pulled her away from him, taking Anders’ hand gently into her own. “Stroud is inside,” she said, without intonation or emotion. “Come and speak to him, and then leave. If you can‘t be kind to the man who saved your life after you fought the Arishok, I don‘t want anything to do with any of you.”

“But we haven’t…” Dorian started, and both Hawke sisters turned and glared at him.

“I suggest we pick our battles,” Avexis muttered to him. Varric nodded, and managed to shore up the trench he was digging with his boot with a well-aimed press.

“I’ll just wait out here,” Blackwall shifted, uncomfortable. “Yell if you need me.”

“Oh, there will be yelling,” Varric looked up, his face more gloomy than the still-raining sky. “Trust me. Oil and water, those two, even before…” he shook his head. “Damn it, I need to learn to stay out of family things.”

“You know I love you, Varric,” Hawke started, just as her sister began.

“Varric, you _are_ family.”

“And… now you agree. Better and better,” Varric sighed.

_< EotD>_

Avexis stormed up the hill, looking urgently at the sky as the dragon winged gracefully, dodging the dizzles of the remaining rain as it observed her, asking impertinent questions about what she was doing and hunting for its dinner. “It moved,” she hissed to Bull, as if it would overhear. “Damn it, the fucking dragon moved. It’s hungry, it’s going to eat someone’s prize sheep or Druffalo, or worse, someone’s _family_ , and everyone in the fucking village will be saying, ‘Why didn’t the Inquisitor just kill the dragon?’”

“Calm down, Saare-Boss, we’ll kill the dragon,” Bull stared up, his eye softened and wistful. “Ain’t she beautiful?”

Avexis glanced upward at the tannish dragon, with a few darker stripes of brown banding her body. “I don’t know, it seems sort of… drab to me, Bull.”

“Drab? That beauty?” Bull’s face shone, “Boss, she’s gorgeous.” The dragon spat at something they couldn’t see, and dove. “Look, she spits lightening, just like you. You’ve got something in common.” He cleared his throat, “Do you think you could introduce me?”

Dorian managed a fair approximation of Cassandra’s disgusted noise.

“It doesn’t work like that, Bull. I don‘t think, anyway,” Avexis lost track of the dragon behind the rocks, but as she wasn’t actually trying to keep the dragon from talking to her, she knew exactly where it was headed and how curious it was at her presence. “Come on. At least it’s heading away from the village. Maybe it will restrict itself to wild Druffalo.” She trudged upwards, and crossed the road, ignoring the dragon’s offer to share its meal - strangely clear, even without using lyrium. She was very carefully not worrying about that. “I promised Judith we’d take care of the wyvern and bring her the liver - or was it the kidneys?” She looked back in the direction of the dragon. “Shame that I can’t convince the dragon to take care of the problem for us.”

“I don’t see it matters,” Dorian sniffed. “You’ll just tell the nice wyvern not to attack, please and thank you, and only kill it if you absolutely have to.”

“It’s already attacked people,” Avexis corrected him, “I don’t see I have a choice in the matter. It has to die.”

“It might have babies,” Bull pouted. “It’s probably trying to feed its young or something, Boss.”

“The people of Crestwood don’t care about a wyvern’s babies,” Varric muttered, “They care about their own. That kid was nearly crippled.”

Avexis blew out an impatient breath. “Bull, if you feel bad about killing baby wyverns, go on back to camp. Dorian, Varric and I can handle this on our own.”

“Nah, I’m with you. Can‘t help thinking they‘re cute, but they‘re still deadly.” They climbed up the hills toward the hidden cave in silence for a little while until Avexis shivered in a sudden fit of what felt like fever and chills.

“Dorian, do you feel…”

“Yes,” Dorian clipped. “There’s a massive deposit of red lyrium somewhere nearby.” He wrapped his arms around himself and rubbed. “Feels just like Redcliffe.”

“Andraste’s Ass, that stuff gives me the creeps,” Varric shuddered. “Hope we can take some of it out, Fancy.”

“It’s always a priority,” Avexis began, and then they turned the corner. “Red Templars?” she hissed, and drew back, and hid in the bushes. “Merde.” She sweated. “Merde. What are they looking for here? Stroud?”

“Solas said this was an area the Elvhen populated,” Varric suggested. “Maybe Corypheus is looking for Elvhen ruins?”

“In Solas’ mind, the entire world is Elvhen,” Avexis contradicted. “And he’s found three of those fucking artifacts of his people since we got here. How many more can there be?”

“Solas is an artifact of his people. He need look no further than his mirror,” Dorian quipped. Avexis stifled her inappropriate laughter.

“Villagers said there was a mine up here,” Bull grunted. “Maybe they‘re trying to mine the lyrium? Good stone around here - there‘s supposed to be a quarry down by where the dragon is nesting.”

Avexis shivered, “It‘s not nesting… at least not yet. We can’t afford to deal with a whole bloody nest of the damn things. I have no idea what I‘m going to do about the one in Lady Shayna‘s Valley.” But she nodded, “Bull, that’s a really good theory. Orzamaar is dealing with us, not Corypheus. With the Templars as allies, they need an alternate source of lyrium. Red lyrium. We know how fast it grows, after the other Redcliffe. It took less than a year to cover the damn castle. Why not try here? Near the equipment they need to… dig it?” She paused, “How do you mine lyrium anyway, Varric?”

“No clue, Fancy. I was born on the surface,” Varric muttered, “To the Merchant’s Guild, not Carta.”

Avexis thought, “We’re going to have to take them out,” she decided. “We can’t let them threaten Crestwood… or mine more lyrium. These people have enough problems.”

“Just give the orders, Boss.”

“Bull, there’s one of the big fuckers,” she whispered. “Keep its attention on you, will you? I’ll try to shock them - lightening was pretty effective on their armor in the Hinterlands.” She squinted, “Though, if that’s armor…” The templars they observed were coated in the red crystals, protruding grotesquely through their skin and protective gear. Any real armor they had was nearly hidden. “All I can do is try, I guess.”

“It’s certainly in horrible taste,” muttered Dorian, rattled. “What would you have me do, Inquisitor-of-mine?”

Avexis shook her head. “The best you can. There’s at least seven of them, by my count. Keep your distance, Varric.”

“I always do.”

“Until you don’t. Don’t pretend you haven’t backflipped into the midst of the melee. Why do you think I make you wear that damn belt? Hawke will kill me if you end up dead. She’ll kill me twice if she finds out it was my lightning that did it. Bull, I’m afraid you’re in this alone.” Avexis cursed, “Zut alors, why didn’t I keep Blackwall with us? We need him!”

“He’s been a bit off since we met Hawke,” Varric admitted. “Hero needs a bit of a break, I think.”

“Let’s do it, Boss,” Bull whispered, “They don’t know we’re here, we can spring a trap. I’m going up the middle, you and Varric take the right, by the cliff. Dorian can circle around, and fry ‘em, closing off their way out. It’s a dead end, unless they run towards the wyvern’s cave. And then they’ll have other problems, am I right? We got this.”

Avexis shivered, sick and sweating with the red lyrium, “All right. Let‘s make it fast. I hate the way this stuff makes me feel.”

Bull’s plan worked, and between a mass of stunned Templars, and Bull roaring and whirling through the loose semicircle they had formed while trying to flank him, they all eventually fell, if not as quickly as she would have preferred.

Bull’s ear was dripping blood, and he was holding his hand to it as they reconvened. “That’s all of them, Boss.”

Avexis twisted, looking at the bodies strewn around them, confused, “No… that’s only…” she counted a third time. “Merde, we’re missing one.” She glanced around, and cast a barrier. “Stay still,” she hissed.

A lone Templar stumbled out from around the shoulder high bushes at the sound of her voice. Her eyes widened.

This Templar was not as far gone as the others. Jagged chunks of lyrium grew from his cheekbones, but she knew that face - it was as familiar as her own, once upon a time, with dark brown eyes fringed by fuzzy lashes. “Avexis,” he croaked, lifting a sharply pointed limb towards her. “Avexis… I…” his words were broken by violent coughing.

“Non!” Avexis held her staff in front of her, the crystal focus shaking. “Non! Arretes, Pierre! Qu'est-ce que tu as fait?*”

Bull swung down his axe, “Pierre? Boss, you know this guy?”

Dorian cast a barrier, his hands glowing malevolently.

“Avexis,” the man croaked again. “S’il te plait…” he coughed, and shards of red lyrium fell onto the ground before him, mixed with his blood. “Pardonne…” He coughed again, and then moaned. “Aides…”

Avexis shoved her marked hand roughly against her cheek, and disappeared with the soft pop that indicated Fadestep. “Avexis!” Dorian hissed. “Damn it… now is not the time to run away!”

“Fucking mages and Templars and their bad timing,” grunted Varric, and swung down Bianca one more time. “Come and get it, big boy,” he taunted. “You‘re not exactly popular in these parts.” The Templar swung back and forth between the three men, but didn‘t attack, his eyes wide enough for them to see the red glow in his pupils.

Before any of them could move, Avexis appeared directly behind him, and held the sickle on the end of her staff against his throat. “Le Créateur pardonne. Moi, non. Bonne nuit, Pierre*,” she whispered, and a red gap appeared in his neck. She staggered back, gagging, tears running down her face, and as he crumpled to the ground, she screamed, focusing her mana in flashing pulses.

“Back up!” Dorian ordered all of them, casting another barrier. “She’s… she’s losing it. Let her get it out, or she‘ll…” his concern choked off his words. “Damn it, I wish Cassandra was here. She might be able to…”

“Shit…” Varric stumbled backwards. “Fancy… don‘t do something you‘ll regret.”

Lightning arced down from the heavens, blasting the ground again and again, over and over, centered on the small lump of already dead Templar, his empty eyes facing his killer. Dorian cast another barrier, backing them up even further. Pierre charred with the third strike, smoked with the fifth, and caught fire with the tenth, the smoke of his impromptu pyre raising to the heavens in a mockery of Chantry services. But Avexis didn’t stop. Her lightning struck the same place in unerring accuracy, until all that was left was wet ashes, hissing in the rain. She tried the spell one last time, sobbing out crackling static, and only then did Dorian dare to dart forward to catch her as she fell. “Bull, help me!” he ordered.

“Dorian,” she gasped, and stumbled to her feet, pushing herself up with her staff. “Lyrium. I need lyrium.”

“No,” Dorian tightened his arms until she had to lean into him. “No, Avexis. He’s gone.”

“Not gone enough,” she hissed, her face contorted. “I want him… vaporisé ! Ashes are too good for him! I want him erased…” she collapsed into her friend, her legs collapsing, unable to hold her up for a moment longer. “Dorian… he… I…”

“I know, bella donna,” he whispered. “I know.” He settled them both down into the hot mud. “Let it out, Amica. I‘m here.”

She stared at him, as if she didn’t recognize him, before curling herself against his shoulder with a pathetic sob.

The weeping ended with Avexis asleep in the arms of someone she trusted. As shadows grew longer, and clouds drew thicker, Dorian looked up. “Bull, help me up. I’m… I’m going to carry her back to camp. I don’t think… I don’t think another man should hold her, right now. Do you… do you two think you could take care of the wyvern? We’ll tell the others the truth, but I think the average Inquisition soldier doesn’t need to hear… this about their Inquisitor.” He glanced back down at her. “It’s a fine line between justice and vengeance. It’s not for me to judge which this was.”

“He didn’t attack her,” Varric‘s eyebrows were heavy.

“He already had,” Dorian flared back, “Years ago.”

“Well, shit, Sparkler, I didn‘t know that.” Varric sighed. “Poor kid.”

“She doesn’t need your pity. She needs help. Bull?” Dorian asked again, pleading.

“No problem,” Bull grunted and lifted the two of them, careful not to touch Avexis where she lay. Dorian took a moment to settle his friend more comfortably into his arms. Varric followed Bull without words to the mouth of the cave. “You want to wait until we can walk you back?”

“No, Bull,” Dorian looked down into his friend’s troubled face, spattered with blood and streaked with tears, “No, I think… I think I’ll do this alone.” He looked up at the larger man, lines etched deep, “If I meet any Templars in this state of mind they’ll regret it. I‘m not feeling very… charitable.”

　

_< EotD>_

 

The next morning, Avexis awoke in her own tent, still dressed in her scorched and stained armor from the day before, the leather creased and dampening her bedroll with the remains of yesterday‘s rain. “Mornin’,” Sera greeted her, sitting on Cassandra‘s side of the tent, crosslegged with wild hair. “Dorian’s waiting for you outside, with a crazy amount of bottles. Says you’re drinking your breakfast this morning.” She nudged Avexis with a single foot. “It’s almost noon, already. We were wondering if you were gonna wake up.”

Avexis nodded, “That seems… that seems like a really good idea.” She huddled up, her knees to her chest. “Did Dorian say…”

“Said he didn’t know the whole story, but we can guess.” Sera sniffed, “He was shite. You did the right thing.”

“Everything is shite, with you,” Avexis tried to laugh, but it died in her throat.

“Calls it like I see it,” Sera mumbled. “Didn’t deserve you, any case. Didn’t have any brains, either, crossing you, even before you went and got all holy.” She shifted to sit across from her. “Talked Cass out of having a heart to heart. She was all intent on getting in here and demanding details. She‘s out looking for something to hit instead. Pissed her off on purpose.”

“Boules de Créateur, thank you,” Avexis choked. “She knows… some already.”

“We all know… some,” mumbled the archer. “Lots of crap like that back in… where I grew up. Don’t want you dwelling, though. Dwelling’s unhealthy. When you get stuck in your head, it goes wrong.” She frowned, “Varric says I’m supposed to tell you that Cole’s out sock hunting. Don’t ask me why. That thing‘s just wrong.”

Avexis lifted her head, “No, he‘s not. He‘s helping.“ She paused, and asked quietly, “Is it wrong I feel… better, knowing he’s gone?”

“Nah,” snorted Sera. “We’d all have done it for you, though. Just needed to ask. Jennies - we’re in the business. Something like this, I’d have pushed up, hard.” She climbed to her feet, after a long moment of awkward silence. “Anyways, Dorian has all that Grey Whiskey ready for you to drown your sorrows, and the rest are talking to the villagers about the dragon. Suspect they’ll wait, seeing as how you made it stop raining, and showed up their mayor, and stopped the undead. Mother wants to get you home, where she can fuss. Least we closed the rifts before all this… shite went down.”

Avexis reached for her bag of clean clothes, but her hand felt too heavy to lift. “Sera?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“Didn’t do nothing, yet,” the elf grinned. “Change your clothes. You smell like a forest fire met a barbeque and had a baby. And then give me your stuff. I‘m gonna do laundry, up by that waterfall. I‘ll try to get your stuff clean.”

Avexis choked on her laugh, but it broke free. “Thank you, Sera.” The woman just waved her off.

“Said that already. Stop.”

When she finally left the tent, dressed in the simple vest and trousers she tended to wear around Skyhold, the camp was empty, except for Dorian sitting across the makeshift boulder table. “Join me,” he suggested, and poured her a glass before she could accept. “I never told you about why I left the Imperium.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Still, it’s a day for stories. Yours, and… mine. I‘ve never shared it, either.” Dorian swirled the whisky in his tin cup as if it were brandy in a snifter. “My father… had me kidnapped.”

Avexis froze. “Kidnapped? Why?” she whispered, remembering Frenic, and her mind taking her back to the night he had stolen her.

“From my lover’s bed,” Dorian spoke into the cup, his voice tinny and echoing. “I went to bed with - well, his name doesn‘t matter, you’ve never met him - and woke up with a black hood over my head in the basement of my family’s summer house.” He set down the cup, “I didn’t even realize there was a basement in my family’s summer house, never having occasion to go any lower than the wine cellar.” He cleared his throat, “It was conveniently outfitted with the various accoutrements necessary for performing a… certain sort of blood magic. One that alters the mind. You might be familiar with the concept.” He poured himself another.

Avexis sat, her cold hands wrapped around the colder cup - hands too shaky to lift it to her mouth. “What happened?”

“Rituals,” Dorian shrugged, but his whiskey sloshed over the rim, spilling. “Nasty things. They… didn’t work. And I was left with my mind - more than could be expected, given the side effects of that sort of thing. I… left before he could try again.” Dorian took a deep breath, “I prefer to believe Father’s willpower lacked conviction.” He lifted his eyes. “You can guess what he was trying to do, I imagine.”

Avexis shivered. “Change you. Make you into what he wanted, not who you were. Frenic…” she swallowed, her mouth dry, “he controlled me…”

“There was far less talking to dragons in my kidnapping… and more of my father’s blood.” Dorian sighed, “He… he used his own. No doubt he thought it would make it-”

“Work,” Avexis choked. “Make you more… like him.”

“Something like that.”

“Why are you telling me?”

“Because we all have horrible things in our past. Someday, I will confront my father with what he tried to do, and come out better for it.” Dorian lifted his chin, “Sooner rather than later, I hope, at least on my better days. You faced your demons yesterday. The question is… will you let them define you?”

Avexis found her strength and lifted her cup. It rattled against her teeth, and the alcohol burned the whole way down, a potent reminder of life‘s pain. “I don’t want them to.”

“Good. You’re the Inquisitor. If you go out there and kill Templars with a bloody-mindedness more suited to revenge than the preservation of the people, it will show.” Dorian patted her hand. “I’d hate to see you turn into the living embodiment of Rage. You were… close yesterday, I think. I took a gamble, and it paid off. You ran out of mana, lost your connection to the Fade before you could make a decision you‘d regret.”

“I could only see red. But I couldn‘t hear any… demons.”

“Red’s not your color,” Dorian agreed. “Purple becomes you better, my dear.” They were silent, as they finished their cups, and refilled them. “You don’t have to tell me your story, bella donna, but… I think it might help if you did. Stories that don‘t get told - it gives them more power over you, I think.”

“I haven’t… told anyone since Galyan, ten years ago,“ Avexis admitted, staring into the amber liquid with pinched eyes. She took another drink, thinking, and then began, with a quiet voice, “When I was 20, I transferred to Montsimmard. I was newly Harrowed. I had defeated a Despair demon, Dorian, one that looked like Frenic, but when a second demon appeared, one that hadn’t been summoned, one that looked like… like a dragon… I… killed it too.”

“Mine was Desire,” Dorian reminisced. “We had a lovely interlude before I sent it into the beyond.”

“The dragon was Fear. I‘ve never heard another mage meeting a Fear demon in their Harrowing - not and live, anyway.”

“Kaffas,” Dorian pouted, and poured her another drink. “That’s quite a feat, for an apprentice. Here‘s to you, my dear.” He toasted her and they both drank.

“I met Pierre the day I entered my new Circle for the first time. He was the Templar assigned to be my guide,” she whispered. “Galyan met me as well, and hugged me…” she looked up, tears in her eyes, “I hadn’t been hugged with affection since I was 12. I felt like I was coming home, to someone that cared about me. Pierre‘s admiring glances promising sweet things... just confirmed that I was in the right place. It felt like home.” She sniffed, and Dorian handed her his handkerchief. She wiped her eyes and nose and looked down. “He kissed me a week later in the library. Pressed me back into the bookshelves and… I lost myself in him.” She took a shuddery breath, feeling her windpipe rattle in her throat. “I lost myself, really.”

“He must have been charismatic.”

“You have no idea,” the bottle shook as she poured, sloshing the liquid all over the rock serving as their table. “He entered the room and it was… full. Galyan… well, he warned me against getting involved with him, of course, but he didn’t like to be a hypocrite. He’d been with Cassandra for years-”

“She just doesn’t seem the sort…” mused Dorian.

Avexis grinned, thankful for the change of subject, “She’s a romantic. Rules can be broken for love. It‘s her favorite exception. You should see her reading material.” She drank, and her shoulders sagged in memory, and her teeth disappeared behind closed lips. “We… we were - together - for the first time a few weeks later. Slow, as Circles go. You don’t tend to waste time.”

“I approve wholeheartedly,” Dorian toasted her. “Life is for living, bella donna.”

“It went on for some time… I was happy, until I started hearing dragons,” Avexis sighed. “One dragon. The archdemon, as it turned out. Galyan believed me, as rumors of a Blight were already circulating, and proposed letting the Orlesian Grey Wardens know - I think he even thought they might recruit me, if I was of use that way. But Vivienne - the newly appointed First Enchanter of my Circle - didn’t. She accused me - ever so reasonably - of wanting to draw attention to myself. Suggested I loved the notoriety of my childhood. Insinuated that she knew of my… affair. Told me there were alternatives, as the archdemon’s voice grew louder and the nightmares grew worse. Told me there was an option, that I could elect…” her voice was quiet, icy with the long-dead memory.

“Tranquility.” Dorian clinked his cup down, frowning, “That would explain why she’s made herself so scarce today.”

Avexis nodded. “Even once the archdemon stopped, I could hear other dragons, occasionally. Like they were… waking up, after a long sleep. I struggled for years. I couldn’t discuss it with… Pierre. We didn’t really - talk much, in the time we had together.” Dorian snorted. “It was a mage issue, and he would have to report any imbalance to his Knight-Commander and explain how he knew… Besides, I wanted… I wanted to make my own choice. My choices had been made for me, you see? I had been fighting against other people‘s choices since Frenic stole me away. I was surrounded by people who thought I needed to be controlled, not nurtured. I wanted control over myself, more than anything.”

Dorian winced, “Quite.”

“So I talked to Galyan. He… didn’t want me to do it, but supported my choice. He argued with Cassandra, I know now. They - what’s the phrase, ’broke up’?” She shivered, “More like shattered, the way Cassandra tells it. She‘s still convinced she‘s impossible to love.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not as sorry as I am,” shivered Avexis. “The Rite was performed. Like icy water being poured over a roaring flame, that’s what it was like - water cold enough to hurt, to feel like burning. Two days afterward,” her voice grew hard, “I found Pierre wrapped around a new transfer from the Marches. Apparently, he had a modus operandi.”

“And you say you don’t speak Tevene.” Dorian poured her another cup, and Avexis downed it like Bull, getting angrier by the second, slamming the cup back on the rock hard enough to leave a dent in the metal.

She fingered the cavity in the cup, ruefully. “I… I left them alone. I went back to my duties. Relationships… aren’t important to Tranquil, not in that way, and I had work to do. Important work.” She slurred, teeth bared. “Pierre found me that night in the Circle stillroom, and… and…” she buried her face in her hands, anger lost and drifting, as the cup rolled off the rock and hit the ground. “He told me as he left that I was a better lay as a Tranquil.”

“It’s a good thing he’s ashes in the mud,” Dorian mused, almost conversationally, retrieving her mug from the dirt where it rested. “I could think of a few things to do to his corpse, otherwise. I might even have regretted it later. Likely not, but in a world where Darkspawn Magisters walk, anything is possible.”

“Yes. It is.” Avexis removed her hands, her cheeks flaming red with drink and embarrassment. “I told Galyan, in passing, the next day, that I was better Tranquil, and why, and he… he,” she laughed, hysterically, “He told EVERYONE. Tattled like a five year old child. Dragged me before the Knight Commander himself, made me tell everyone everything. I wasn‘t embarrassed, because Tranquil don‘t…” She collapsed into the pile of her own arms. “Créateur, I am now. Just thinking about how much Vivienne knows…” she shivered. “I’m not sure I can ever look at her again.”

“I would suggest that you don’t. Have Cassandra send her back to Skyhold without us.” Dorian smiled wolfishly, all his teeth showing. “I could kiss your Galyan.”

“You’re not his type,” Avexis muttered against the rock, “After that, Pierre was sent to a remote Chantry monastery in disgrace, and I… I was left alone, except for Galyan. He took care of me, every day. He abandoned his own work and ambition, largely out of guilt, I think. He even asked his apprentices to find other mentors. After the rebellion began in earnest, he kept me with him, took me to the conclave.” She stared up at the blue sky - too bright to be real, she thought, in her drunken dizziness. A drop of water fell onto her cheek from the overhanging rocks, and she wiped the coolness away and hid her face again. “He discovered my talent for maps remained, and set me to copying them. When we were at the conclave, I mapped the tunnels in the mountain under the temple. He… saved my life with that work. He… he was more than my friend. My father.” She frowned, “Does that sound stupid? He was human, and not old enough, by far…”

“Not at all. He sounds an amazing man. We all should be so lucky. I‘m sorry you lost him.”

Avexis lifted her head and the world tilted sideways. “Dorian… you got me drunk. On purpose.”

“You needed it.” Dorian cleared his throat. “I’d suggest you go back to bed, but we have two more bottles to get through. I propose instead that you let me win at Diamondback until we pass out, or the Seeker gets back, scolds me, and puts you to bed. She could use someone to yell at. Whichever comes first.”

“Pfft,” Avexis snickered, her unbrushed hair flopping forward. “You can’t beat me at Diamondback.”

“Try me.” Dorian reached over and brushed her hair out of her eyes. “I’m hardly without guile.”

 

_< EotD>_

 

Cassandra stood over where Avexis lay curled on the ground, knees in the air and head in Sera‘s lap, singing in a deep alto about gardens in Orlesian. Sera patted her head and cackled when she messed up the words.

“’Ce jardinet est bel et plaisant…’” she warbled.

“Should’ve known you’d be a singer,” snickered Sera. “Gonna get you tipsy more often, iffen you sing about night gardens. You know what they‘re really singing about, right, with all those blooming roses and whatnot?”

Avexis nodded, resigned. “It’s a dirty song. It’s always a dirty song, in Orlais. Even the Chant of Light sounds dirty in Orlesian. Listen: ‘Mon Créateur, jugez-moi tout: Trouvez-moi bien dans Votre grâce. Touchez-moi avec le feu que je sois purifié. Dites-moi que j'ai chanté à Votre approbation.’ She cracked open an eye for the other woman. “If that‘s not Andraste submitting to the Maker, I don‘t know what is.”

Cassandra made a disgusted noise.

Sera snorted, “It sounds pretty dirty in Common, too, honestly.”

“I could go for some touches like fire, even with my bad singing.” The two girls sniggered together, and Avexis started singing again. “Autant la nuit comme le jour…”

“She’s going to spend the night vomiting,” Cassandra fretted.

Dorian waved off the Seeker‘s concern. “Nonsense. She’s fine. She hasn’t had anything to drink in… two hours? Of course, she hasn‘t eaten anything either. Said she wasn‘t hungry.” Dorian sighed and drew Cassandra away. “She needed the edge off, so she could talk, but I wouldn’t let her overdo it, Seeker. We’ve played for hours, even dealt Sera in, when she got back. I’ve never seen anyone as terrible at Diamondback as Avexis. I thought for a while she was playing to lose.”

“She was,” Cassandra scolded. “She thinks it’s funny. She‘s never taken a single game seriously. Not chess, not Wicked Grace, not Diamondback. You‘re going to return every penny you won off of her.” She shoved the altus aside, to lift a sleepy, singing Avexis to her feet. “I hope for your sake, Dorian, that she sleeps tonight, or I’ll duel you at dawn.” Her voice was fretful, but lacked conviction.

“I won’t be awake at dawn, Seeker.”

“She’d better not be, either. Even if we do need to get back to Skyhold.” The Seeker sighed, and steered the Inquisitor to her tent. “Come along, Avexis. It’s past time for you to sleep.” She guided her gently, despite her harsh words.

“Love you, Cassandra,” Avexis hugged her, sloppily as she tried to settle her into the bedroll. “You’re my hero. Thank you for always coming for me.”

“Enough of that,” The Seeker, flustered, patted her twice on the back. “Sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arretes, Pierre! Qu'est-ce que tu as fait? - Stop, Pierre. What have you done?
> 
> S'il te plait... Pardonne... Aides - Please... Sorry... Help.
> 
> Le Créateur pardonne. Moi, non. Bonne nuit, Pierre. - The Maker forgives. I don't. Goodnight, Pierre.
> 
> vaporise - vaporize
> 
> Boules de Créateur - Maker's Balls
> 
> Ce jardinet est bel et plaisant - This little garden is beautiful and pleasant.
> 
> Mon Créateur, jugez-moi tout: Trouvez-moi bien dans Votre grâce. Touchez-moi avec le feu que je sois purifié. Dites-moi que j'ai chanté à Votre approbation. - My Creator, judge me whole: Find me well within Your grace. Touch me with fire that I may be cleansed. Tell me that I have sung to Your approval. It's the Chant of Light, Transfigurations 12.
> 
> Autant la nuit comme le jour - As much the night as the day.
> 
> Avexis' song is from 'L'Amour De Moi', a gorgeous French folk song. I prefer the version by the Mediaeval Baebes. I've been listening to a lot of them, writing this story. If anyone wants the full song, with translation, I will provide it. It's so pretty.


	25. Leads, Pardons, and Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's two degrees outside on March first, I have a broken toe and I'm hobbling around like I'm eighty, and damn it, I want to post a chapter. So I'm going to.

The horn blew, announcing the Inquisitor’s arrival in the Keep, and Cullen bolted upright and out of his chair. She had returned. She was…

Rylen stepped back, and waved him forward, “Go on, Commander. I know where you‘d rather be.”

Cullen forced himself to sit back down, the light of the torches fluttering slightly with his impatient movements stirring the air. “Don’t be ridiculous, Knight-Captain. Continue. This is… important. The Emerald Graves, you say? More of these mines like Avex- the Inquisitor found in Crestwood?”

“That’s right,” Rylen handed the relevant sketch to him. “The spymaster’s scouting teams are working on mapping the area. Strange shipments are moving through there, and Samson has been…”

“Maker’s Breath, finally a lead,“ Cullen huffed, and Rylen stopped again. “I’m sorry, continue.”

“We think Samson’s in close contact with the Templars in charge of the area. His second might even be local. A Fereldan knight named Carroll.”

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose at the name, remembering a young man from long ago. “The Inquisitor needs to visit the Emerald Graves,” he summed up, “with as many forward scouts as we can manage to pave her way.” He ran his hand through his hair, worried, but hardly able to express it. “She has a hundred places she needs to be. Might as well add one more to the list.”

“Exactly, Commander.” Rylen hesitated, before continuing, “Did you… know-”

Cullen interrupted him. “It’s only the first time I’ve recognized a name, Rylen. No doubt there will be more. We… we can’t afford to get sentimental. There’s nothing left of who he used to be.” He was quiet for a moment, “I‘ll inform the Inquisitor as soon as I see her. No later than tomorrow, I should expect. Unless you think we should move out immediately?”

Rylen‘s mouth quirked up, “This is a huge operation - they aren‘t going to disappear overnight. But I would tell her as soon as possible, Commander. Convenient, since she‘s just arrived, don‘t you think?”

“Dismissed, then,” Rylen didn‘t move. “Was there something else you needed, Knight-Captain?” Cullen stood, grabbing his coat off the back of his chair.

“I don‘t think so. You?”

But Cullen was already out the door, and Rylen was smiling, “Finish up for me here, will you, Rylen?”

“With pleasure, Commander.” Rylen sat down and looked around himself, before leaning forward and tidying the papers, sorting them far more carefully then was the Commander‘s habit, but with a knowing grin on his face the whole time.

_< EotD>_

 

Avexis entered through the portcullis at the side of the Hawke sisters, Stroud, and Anders, who was largely silent, hidden by a hood that Bethany had insisted on him wearing before they came into sight of Skyhold, fussing over the other mage until her sister was ready to explode.

She didn’t understand. Anders didn’t seem dangerous. Not at all. He was gentle, soft-spoken, unless you brought up mage rights, and she had yet to see Justice emerge at all.

He wasn’t the sort of abomination she had been expecting. She would never have known, if she hadn’t read the book.

He reminded her of Galyan. A healer, not a fighter. Someone who preferred to take care of people, instead of himself. Even his choices in Kirkwall reflected that, healing an under-city of impoverished people with no other place to go.

What would it have taken for Galyan to blow up a Chantry? She shuddered. Perhaps… if her situation had been different, more like Anders’ Karl, then… then he might have been the one to do it. Everyone had their tipping point.

She’d rather not think about it, lest she discover her own. But then again, perhaps she already had. Her dreams featured ash quite heavily these days.

Leliana met her at the gate, glancing only briefly at her companions arms crossed and shifted back on her leg away from their group. “Is that him?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, dismounting and handing the reins off to the waiting stablelad. “Do we have a problem?” The woman’s eyes were too dark to interpret under her hood.

“Follow me,” Leliana told the Hawkes. “We’re meeting in the War Room, now. We’ve sent a runner to the Commander…”

“No need,” Bethany’s face lit up. “Knight-Commander Cullen!” She rushed towards him and hugged him, Cullen wrapping his arms around her back gently, with a blushing glance at Avexis. “It’s wonderful to see you!”

Avexis frowned, a line bunched between her eyes and her scar wrinkling. She hadn’t expected them to be so… friendly.

“That’s… not my title,” Cullen stepped away after patting her back twice, quite quickly. “It’s just ’Commander’ now.”

“Just! As if being Commander of the Inquisition was something to sneeze at!“ Bethany turned and beamed at Avexis, “Your Commander was single-handedly responsible for my Circle experience being… only moderately unpleasant. He looked out for me. For all of us, as much as he could.”

Avexis lifted her eyebrows. “Truly? Then my Commander is an honorable man.” To her credit, she only emphasized the possessive pronoun slightly. Cullen swallowed, and flushed a deeper red, his hand creeping to the nape of his neck and taking two steps backward, away from the other woman. Bethany’s eyes went wide, and Hawke coughed into her hand.

Leliana glanced between the two of them, her mouth twitching, “We need to adjourn - now, before rumors start. We’ve… had a development Josie can’t ignore that involves all of you. From the highest places.”

Vivienne raised her eyebrows, “Am I required?”

“Not particularly,“ Leliana glanced at her, “but come, if you’d like. We’d rather avoid a spectacle, for obvious reasons.” Blackwall, Dorian, Bull and Varric chose to peel away and go about their business, and Sera and Cole had already disappeared to parts unknown. The air weighed down on Avexis, filled with excited mutters about her return, as they traversed the Great Hall - scaffolding half removed now from the largest stained glass windows, an odd procession with Anders at the center.

It felt - rather too funeral-like for Avexis, all things considered. She hoped she wasn’t going to have to kill the man, however guilty.

The War Room door shut, echoing into the hallway. Anders took a moment to drop his hood, and the room was silent as they looked at the meek healer with shadows under his eyes.

Given the tense nature of the meeting, Josie wasted no time. “The King of Ferelden, at the request of his Warden Commander, has asked us to spare Anders’ life,” she announced. “We could use the political favor. Arl Teagan is unhappy with our allies’ treatment of Redcliffe. This could go a long way towards their support of the Inquisition, if we choose to listen to his request.”

Avexis darted a glance at Leliana, but her eyes were hidden.

Vivienne broke the stunned silence. “You can’t be serious,” she sputtered. “You’re going to just pardon an abomination… _this_ abomination? To make up for Venatori and Rebels ruining Redcliffe? Anders started the rebellion! He‘s directly to blame for any damage…”

“The war was coming whether he blew up the Chantry or not,” Hawke spun on the mage. “Look, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but Anders is my friend. Justice is an ass, and I don’t care who knows it, but - they’re not the same person.”

“Hawke…” Anders said, his voice hoarse with disagreement.

“Shut it,” the Champion ordered her friend. “You weren’t in Kirkwall, Enchanter. I was. The Knight-Commander was mad - she was the first Red Templar, and I’ve seen enough in Crestwood to know one when I see one. She probably sat in her office licking her fucking sword after hours.” Cullen made a small noise, but the Champion continued, without noticing, “And Orsino was no better - he corresponded with the shit-wipe that killed my mother.” She spat on the floor. “Necromancers.” She glanced around, and slightly more evenly, offered, “Present company excluded, of course.”

“Of course,” murmured Avexis, staring at Anders. “I would appreciate other opinions. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

“I blew up the Chantry,” Anders said clearly. “I don’t regret it, and I don’t deny it. I helped mages rise and fight back against their oppressors.” He met Avexis’ eyes. His own were lined, tired, and sad, and Bethany reached out her hand to take his. “A lot of people have died, but… I did the right thing. I believe that. I did it, expecting to pay for my crimes. I didn‘t expect to be spared.”

“I spared him. He‘s more use as a healer than a martyr.” Hawke crossed her arms. “I’ll fight anybody that tries to take his life. He‘s my friend - and my brother in law.” Bethany made a small noise. “Shh, Bethy, or I’ll take it back. We don‘t have much family left. I won‘t take the one you‘ve found. Not if I can help it. Not if he behaves himself, anyway.” She narrowed her eyes, “I can’t speak for Fenris, Anders.”

“No one speaks for Fenris,” Anders muttered, “He barely speaks at all.”

Vivienne turned gracefully towards Avexis. “Inquisitor, you must see my argument. Executing the man responsible for the war would curry favor with everyone, not just the King of Ferelden and his elven mistress!”

Leliana hummed, very softly, making the sound dangerous. “Have a care, Vivienne. They may not be married, but he cares for her, just as your Duke cares for you. Alistair is the King, and not to be trifled with. If you cannot respect that, you should respect that she is the Hero of Fereldan and the Warden Commander of the Grey. She may ‘only’ be the King’s mistress, but she still outranks you, in both military and civilian arenas.” Vivienne pressed her lips together and did not respond.

“I can’t kill him or pardon him,” Avexis grasped the table, locked in an epiphany. “There’s a reason the Warden Commander is interested in your fate. Anders, you are a Grey Warden, are you not?”

“I… was. Once, I served under Warden Commander Surana. It‘s been - a long time. When she left to report to Weisshaupt, and they replaced her, I…” he lifted his chin, “I am absent without leave. Have been for nearly a decade. I don’t intend to go back.”

“Then… what is the phrase, Josie? Sous ma juridiction?”

“Under my jurisdiction,” Josie supplied, very quietly.

“You’re not under my jurisdiction.“ Avexis turned away. “You are subject to their rules. The Wardens operate outside the rules of the Circle and Chantry. In the… grey area, if you prefer. They are accountable only to their Order. The most we could do is send you to Weisshaupt. Do you want to go to Weisshaupt?” Anders snorted in an uncomplimentary fashion and Bethany grabbed his sleeve.

“I’d rather not return. Once was enough. There are reasons I was… eager to leave.”

“He’d never arrive,” Cullen spoke through his teeth. “Anders escaped the Circle more times than any other mage in history.” Anders managed a ghost of a proud grin, and Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose, looking pained.

“Inquisitor,” Vivienne hissed. “You cannot be serious. What he did had nothing to do with the Wardens or the Blight. He crumbled the Kirkwall Chantry into dust between his feet, and spit on everything Regalyan D’Marcall stood for!”

“Don’t you dare speak his name!” Avexis flung at her. With a visible effort, she reigned in her temper, glancing at Cullen, who looked confused and opened his mouth to ask. She shook her head at him, and turned back to the other woman. “Vivienne, I have reminded you once already, that I am the Inquisitor. I do what is best for Thedas, not just the Circle. Not just for Orlais, or Kirkwall, or Ferelden. And definitely not what is best for you.” She turned back to Cullen, taking a deep breath, “Commander, I fear for our Warden guest’s life. I don’t want to limit his freedom, but do you think you can arrange for Anders to be guarded against people that might do him harm?”

“Of course, Inquisitor,” Cullen straightened, and she had to look away. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by his height. Everything was too complicated…

“No Templar guards, if you please,” Avexis added. Anders‘ eyebrows raised. “This is not the Circle, Warden Anders, nor is it the Chantry. The guards are meant to defend you, not protect the rest of the Keep. Do you understand?” Anders nodded, looking skeptical. “In that case, the Inquisition is short on mage healers. If you and your wife would like, we would appreciate any assistance you could grant in that area. But don‘t feel obligated.”

“I’ll protect them,” grumbled Hawke. “It’s my job.”

Avexis smiled at the woman, trying to be gracious, “But there’s Wicked Grace and ale in the tavern, Champion. I would hope you - and your companions - would rest during your stay. You’ve been traveling a long time. If all goes as you believe, you need to depart for the Western Approach all too soon. I‘ll join you there, as soon as I can. You should recuperate, not be constantly wary of an attack on your sister and brother in law. You‘ve… earned a break.” Avexis segued into the next topic. “Now then, Warden Stroud, would you please share with my advisors everything you know about the Calling?” She quirked a small smile at the mustached Warden. “I could use the review, as well. It seemed… a complex issue.” She glanced at Vivienne, “You can go, Vivienne. I don‘t think you‘ll be needed at all.”

The woman bowed, and left without another word, as graceful as always.

“With pleasure, Inquisitor,” the Orlesian Warden intoned, and began his story.

 

_< EotD>_

 

Cullen ran to catch up with Avexis after the meeting, as she turned towards her room, “Inquisitor!” It took two repetitions for her to realize he was talking to her. When she turned, her face was troubled. “Inquisitor, I…” he bent closer, realizing how pale and drawn she looked, “Are you all right?”

“Non. Not really.” She shook her head. “Crestwood drained me. And now And…” she glanced around her, and sighed. “I can’t talk here.”

Cullen nodded and waved her towards his office, the opposite direction of where she had been headed. “We can talk in my office, if you like.”

“Hmmm,” she looked at him warily, and sighed again. “Very well. I - I need to hear what you have to say.”

Cullen smirked, “I think you do. I didn’t want to divulge it in front of - well, it’s rather sensitive.”

He escorted her across the bridge to his office, noting she shied away from Solas, with her arms folded tight across her chest, and didn’t even glance at the murals that had their visitors so transfixed. His frown grew as she entered, and she stood before his desk stiffly. “Yes, Commander?”

“Are you well?”

“Well enough. Nothing that you can help, in any case.” She answered curtly. “What do you have for me?”

Cullen frowned, but nodded, “I think we found how to track Samson. Those mines you found in Crestwood, Inquisitor. They’re the key. We found a Veridium mine in the Emerald Graves that the Red Templars are - running, somehow, with help. Missing villagers have been reported by a local vigilante by the name of Fairbanks.” He handed her the scroll, “Samson is communicating with his men in the area. This could be it, Inquisitor. The best lead we’ve had on Corypheus.”

Avexis’ eyes were wide, as she read the paper and glanced back up at him, tears in her eyes. “Because of the mines?” Her voice broke.

“Because of the Red Templars you found outside of the mines,” Cullen corrected. Avexis covered her mouth. “You’re not well,” his air of triumph drifted away, as he pulled her towards his own chair, forgetting he wasn‘t supposed to touch her. “What is it?”

“I… I killed a lot of Red Templars outside of Crestwood,” Avexis whispered, clenching the arms of his chair. “They’re monstrous now - worse than the Hinterlands, or Haven.”

“There’s nothing left of what they used to be,” Cullen started, and Avexis choked. “I’ve said something wrong. I beg your pardon.”

“There is something of who they used to be… up until a certain point,” she whispered. “I met - one - that remembered.” She raised her eyes to his. “Don’t ask. Please. I’m so tired, and now Anders - I thought I was going to have to kill him, too…” she drew a sobbing breath. “May the Maker not judge me harshly.”

“How could he?” Cullen asked in confusion, and Avexis hid her face. “Avexis… did you meet someone you…” he thought of Carroll, and paled. “Maker’s Breath, you knew him - the one who remembered.” He slowly said, “He knew you, didn’t he?” Hands shaking, he knelt in front of her. “I’m so sorry, Avexis. I - I recognized a name myself, today. It’s a horrible feeling, to feel like I could have done something - more.”

“You did?” Avexis dropped her hands, and grasped his. “You’ve… can we save him?”

Cullen shook his head. “I fear not. We suspect he’s Samson’s second in command. We can’t save him from Samson any more than Samson could corrupt Rylen.”

Avexis reached out and hugged him, burying her face in his neck, and slowly Cullen wrapped his arms around her back. “I’m so sorry, Cullen. So sorry.” She shivered under his hands, and his neck felt wet. “I’ll… I’ll make it quick, if I can. For you and who he used to be.”

“That’s more than I could ever ask,” Cullen murmured, breathing in the Embrium scent of her hair. “Thank you for understanding.”

She choked a little laugh, and whispered, “That’s my line.” She pulled back, tearstained, and wiping her cheek with the palm of her hand. “We need names, Cullen. There must be someone we can save.” She grabbed his hands and squeezed, harder than he would have thought her capable of. “Think on it, please? Not every Templar would have gone to Corypheus, lyrium or no lyrium. There’s always the black market, there‘s that smuggler that we hired from Redcliffe - the sister there procured Chantry lyrium for Templars. Varric might know more - or even Cole. He‘s good at finding things.”

“I’ll consider it,” he promised lowly, unable to deny her. “But only if you don’t blame yourself any longer for lives you can‘t help taking.”

“His was a life I could have spared.” Avexis tucked her hair back behind her ears, and straightened her vest. “Am I a mess? Or can I appear in public?”

“You’re never a mess.”

“Liar.”

“I never lie.” Cullen handed her his handkerchief. “Be kind to yourself, Ladybird.”

She shook her head, “Non. I will go and spend some time in the little chapel, I think.” She sniffed, and wiped her eyes. “I cannot ask for - what’s the word - absolution?” The word was lovely on her lips.

“It’s the same,” Cullen murmured. “Absolution.” He couldn’t ask for it either.

“Absolution, but I can, perhaps, find peace with what I’ve done.” She stared at his handkerchief. “He… didn’t attack, you see. I… I killed him when he might have surrendered, if I had… had…” she shook her head. “It is done. I can‘t spend my time looking back.” She stood, and handed him back his handkerchief. “Thank you, Cullen.”

“Keep it,” he smiled, sadly, and covered her hand. “Would you care for company?”

Avexis blinked, and then smiled. “I would appreciate an understanding friend.”

“I can be that.”

_< EotD>_

 

The two knelt in the Chapel, and while Cullen bowed his head, Avexis stared up at the stone image of Andraste with an almost fierce expression on her face. 

Her Chant was impassioned, the Orlesian musical as it tripped and flowed over her tongue.

“’Quand j'ai perdu tout autre chose, quand mes yeux me manquent et que le goût du sang remplit ma bouche, alors, dans le battement de mon cœur, j'entends la gloire de la création. Vous avez pleuré comme moi. Vous, qui a fait des mondes à partir de rien. Nous sommes semblables dans la douleur, sculpteur et argile, réconfortant les uns les autres dans notre art.’”

She was silent for a moment, and Cullen risked a whisper, “Which Canticle?”

“Trials,” she said aloud, and then slower, translated. “’When I have lost all else, when my eyes fail me, and the taste of blood fills my mouth, then in the pounding of my heart I hear the glory of creation. You have grieved as I have. You, who made worlds out of nothing. We are alike in sorrow, sculptor and clay, comforting each other in our art.’” She paused, “When I found it after Frenic, I felt like it had been written for me. I know the taste of blood in my mouth, have known the panicked heartbeats that are all that links me to creation. It - helps to think that Frenic wasn’t the one who made me how I am. And I… like to think of the Maker grieving that his creations do such horrible things to each other.”

“As do I.” Cullen cleared his throat, and deliberately, began to sing the next verse, “’Do not grieve for me, Maker of All. Though all others may forget You, Your name is etched into my every step. I will not forsake You, even if I forget myself.” The last note faded away for a second, echoing off the stone walls of the chapel.

Avexis covered her mouth with her hand, tears in her eyes. “No one sings the Chant anymore, Cullen. Even in Val Royeaux, it‘s out of date. Hearing you, it‘s a shame.” Slow steps at the back of the chapel indicated that he had drawn an audience. “More, please? If you don‘t mind. So lovely.”

Cullen flushed, but rose his voice once more, “Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the Light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure. What you have created,” he looked at Avexis and smiled, “no one can tear asunder.”

She smiled back, and squeezed his hand. “Merci.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Chant, I chose to use mostly the most formal French phrasing, since the Chant in English tends to be phrased formally. I'm not going to translate it again here, because it was done in the text.
> 
> As for Cullen singing the Chant, it's mentioned a few times in the games that singing the Chant has fallen out of favor. In Origins, in Denerim, the lady with the bacon and ham obsession talks about it. In Inquisition in Val Royeaux, an older gentleman mourns that no one sings the Chant anymore. I decided unilaterally that Cullen does.
> 
> Sue me.


	26. Knights, Walks, and Bad Plays

Avexis made her way into Skyhold’s garden, just wandering, as Dorian was not in his usual place in the library and for once, she had very little to do while at Skyhold - a convenient lull in highborn and powerful visitors coinciding with her own arrival. She vaguely considered heading into the tavern to visit with Sera - her relationships with her friends had only deepened since recent events. But her feet had brought her here, instead, into the plant filled space set aside for contemplation and relaxation instead of the boisterous Herald‘s Rest.

A small crowd had grown around the stone gazebo, where a pedestal chess table had been set up for those inclined. Apparently, the Commander was so inclined, and so was… Avexis cursed, and stifled her jealousy.

Cullen had never played chess with her. And Dorian knew it, sitting there as smug as Sera with pile of empty pie plates, and a list of victims a mile long.

He was going to be insufferable, now that he knew something about the Commander that she didn’t. Perhaps she could sneak out of her room, meet up on his roof, if… she stopped the thoughts short.

The Inquisitor couldn’t sneak. It would make her look like she was doing something wrong. The Inquisitor must be above reproach, the Herald of Andraste, savior of all.

She owed Josie her good behavior, for the day when her past came back to haunt them. She had made an enemy of Madame de Fer - who already knew all her secrets. She had killed, in cold blood, the youngest son of a minor Orlesian noble family. When the war ended, someone would want to know what happened to him. Pierre would never be written off as just another missing person.

Whatever Dorian said, she had to be a good person. Twice as good as everyone else, just to have a chance at being believed.

From this perspective, it looked like the Inquisitor had un vie de merde, despite the fancy room and title, Avexis told herself, and let herself draw closer. The Inquisitor could afford to watch two men play a game of chess, even if it was these two men. Or… one man in particular. Why shouldn’t she? She scanned the board. Dorian had too many pieces, compared to where the Commander’s own rested.

Her eyes sparked. Cullen had to realize - why hadn’t he called him out? Was he so desperate for adequate players or convivial company? She stepped closer, studying the board, only distantly hearing the men banter about the other’s skills.

Cullen was about to win. No surprises there. She stopped herself from showing him how. He knew. He had to know. The soon to be victor caught her eye and half rose, “Inquisitor!” His face lit up, and Avexis felt an answering smile blossom on her face despite her best efforts.

The spectators dropped back to give her room at the sound of her title, “Don’t mind me,” she assured them all, her eyes dropping away from their attention. “I hope you boys are playing nice?”

“I’m always nice,” Dorian quipped. “Your Commander, however, has a nasty side. A regular bully.“ Cullen seated himself again, smiling sheepishly, and then rededicated himself to the game, perhaps a little more seriously than before.

Was he - showing off for her?

No need, for Dorian was ghastly. She watched him swap out one of Cullen’s less important pieces for one of his own with sloppy sleight of hand, but it was too late and in the wrong place to make a difference. She flashed her eyes to Cullen’s face, his mouth tilted sideways, just as he moved the final piece, victorious despite his opponent‘s cheating ways. Her breath stopped. He was so confident.

Smug shouldn’t look sexy. But it did on him. She closed her eyes for a moment, willing her cheeks to fade, along with the memory of his smile tugging up the scar she couldn’t see at night. His eyes looked dark underneath - another thing she couldn‘t see. What else was she missing, in the dark?

He still wasn’t sleeping, from the circles under his eyes, and the pale skin, but he… he looked a little better fed than when she had left for Crestwood. Someone had been making sure he ate, perhaps. Not as haggard with grief and stress. She tightened her fingers to stop them from wanting to stroke the loose twist of hair falling into his eyes, the ghost of the feel of it running through her fingers.

He needed a haircut. She understood, suddenly, why Varric called him ‘Curly’. In her confusion, she cursed the Maker for designing such a sweet fruit, and then dangling him in front of her when she couldn‘t take a bite.

Zut. This wasn’t getting easier. She needed to leave. Yesterday. Perhaps she could just arrange never to return to Skyhold between missions. The ravens would be willing to carry more messages. Perhaps she could train nugs, or… start a courier service?

Her dangerous thoughts were cut short as Dorian conceded, leaving her alone with the Commander, as their spectators drifted away to resume whatever they were doing before the two men drew their attention.

And then he offered her a game, leaning back coyly, as if trying to tempt her into accepting.

The additional temptation was unnecessary. “You want to play - with me?“ She smiled wickedly, “Prepare the board, Commander,“ she heard herself accept despite her best intentions, her mind whirling with panic and a litany of ‘merde’ while she took Dorian’s empty seat and her good Circle mage self asked what the fuck she thought she was playing at.

It was just a game, she argued instantly. One simple game. In broad daylight, in a public place, with a dozen onlookers. It was the opposite of meeting on his roof in the middle of the night. This was… safe. Safer. She was less likely to launch herself at him, for one.

He leaned forward, elbows on knees, those amber eyes lit from behind with anticipation. When he smiled at her, things didn’t seem impossible.

And there lay the danger, her better self countered.

Her mind slipped back to Bethany, defending the man she loved. Bethany was a mage - had been a Circle mage. So was Anders, once upon a time. They were making it work - and Anders had issues far beyond talking to dragons, leading the Inquisition, and Tranquility.

But Cullen was a Templar, not another mage, her mental voice scoffed.

But when he smiled, the barriers were only in her mind. “We could spend more time together.”

She realized too late she had said that aloud, rather belligerently. But Cullen looked up with a wider smile than she had seen him use yet. “I’d like that.”

“Really?” Avexis’ answering smile wavered in the face of his superior abilities, “So would I.” Merde. Her inner self kicked her own shins, demanding that she stop this instant. She wrestled herself down, and felt her good Circle mage surrender in disgust.

“You said that,” Cullen said softly. His face glowed with an excitement she didn‘t quite understand.

Maker, he… he couldn’t feel the same way. It wasn’t possible. The Maker wasn’t that kind. He was a templar - but Cassandra had said…

Cassandra was a sucker for a romantic tragedy, as long as it had plenty of smut and sword fighting. The last thing she needed was another unhappy ending, her know-it-all voice replied with a sneer.

She spoke rashly, to cover her mental debate, and test the waters. It had been a long time, for both of them. Perhaps he didn’t realize how charming he was. “In the Circle, we would make wagers, to make a game more interesting. Care to place a bet, Commander?”

His eyes widened at her flirtatious tone, but he smiled again. That smile would be her undoing. “Whatever you like, Inquisitor. We seem to be… well-matched?” He definitely knew she had noticed Dorian’s cheating.

She was going to let him win, she decided immediately. Just to see him smile - smug and confident - again. She looked up at him through her lashes, deliberately daring him. “If I win, you call me by my first name, in public, no matter what Josie says.” An impossibility, and safe enough to bet. Josie would scold them both into next week, if they dared attempt such a thing.

The bastard smirked. “Deal. If I win, however, you grant me a request. A - a favor, to be granted at a later time?”

“Can’t think of anything you want, Commander Cullen?” Avexis bit her lip slightly, and then dragged her teeth over it, reddening it. His eyes dropped predictably and she let her lips curve up. The good Circle mage within screamed impotently in warning, but Avexis slammed the door on her complaints, and locked it, firmly.

Créateur, she had missed flirting when she was Tranquil. Well, not missed, precisely, but… she shook her head slowly, in a gentle reproach directed towards what the man might be thinking about her mouth, and then dragged her hair - loose today - over one shoulder. He followed it with his eyes, darkened slightly. Her hair was one of her best features, everyone had said so, when she was young and reckless. It caught the light in the garden and glinted with wheaten gold - brightened now after weeks of fresh air and winter sun.

Très intéressant. From the looks of things, he liked her hair. This was going to be fun.

“You’re trying to distract me,” he challenged, low enough so that the other occupants of the garden couldn’t hear. “Would you prefer to think its working?”

Avexis flashed him another dare in the form of a smile and said, “I don’t need distractions to win, Commander. I may be bad at languages, but I‘m good at chess. Chess is its own language.“ She let her eyes fall to the board. It was still anyone’s game. She moved carefully. “I’ve been playing since just after Frenic. When did you learn?”

“I don’t remember learning.” Her eyes flashed up, alarmed. He had been playing for that long? He was already smug. “My sister is even better than I am. Or used to be.” He grinned, “I suspect I practice more, these days. I don’t really know if she still plays…” his eyes grew more distant.

“You’ve mentioned her before,” Avexis studied the board, brow furrowed. “You have family in Ferelden. In South - what was it? Grasp? Hold?”

He laughed as she fumbled to remember. “Reach. South Reach. Two sisters and a brother. Mia, Rosalie, and Branson.” Avexis caught herself giggling at the combination of the brother’s names. “Why are you laughing?”

Avexis shook her head, “The joke wouldn‘t translate well. Maybe I‘ll explain, someday.”

He sighed, but didn’t press. “I haven’t written often enough for my eldest sister’s preferences.” He sat back, his armor glinting underneath his coat in the sunlight, and spread his legs a little, stretching in his chair. “I may have neglected to tell her I was being transferred to Kirkwall.” He met her eyes, daring her to notice his posture.

Avexis narrowed her eyes. “You’re trying to distract me.”

“Is it working?” he taunted. “I don’t need to distract you to win. I already have you in the palm of my hand. I just have to close the trap.”

“Bâtard,” she threw at him. “Salaud.”

“I can guess the meaning of those,” he smirked at her, “No need to translate. We don‘t need to shock all these Sisters with the Inquisitor‘s filthy mouth.”

“You like my dirty mouth, I think,“ Cullen choked, and Avexis focused back on the board, said mouth curling up at the edges. She moved, and challenged, “You should write to your sister.”

He winced. “I know. But what to say, really? ‘I’m still alive,’ brought me nothing but scolding.”

Avexis saw her openings, both on the board and personally, but didn’t take them. She wouldn’t poke at his wounds. He wouldn’t do that to her. He could have asked her about Frenic. She would rather win by accident than on purpose. There… she saw her chance to lose and make it seem like she was fighting to win, and took his last knight with her queen, leaving her King vulnerable.

Against a weaker player, she might have even won, taking that risk.

Nothing about Cullen was weak. “Did you mean to do that?”

“Yes,” Avexis took her hand off her piece. “All your knights are mine now.“ She closed her hand around his knight. “Your move, Commander.”

Cullen glanced back up at her, his eyes calculating, “Was that another pun?”

“Win, and I might tell you,” Avexis batted her eyelashes, her flirting over the top now, and not caring in the least. His confident grin slipped as she dropped the knight piece into her breastband. “Or… you could come and get it, if you want it back so badly.”

Visibly flustered, he placed her king in checkmate, saying, “Then this one is mine,” Avexis tipped over her King, gracious in defeat. He templed his fingers, “I believe you owe me a boon, milady.”

“You have conquered my kingdom, fair and square, despite my Orlesian wiles, Commander,” Avexis fluttered her hand in front of her chest in imitation of a highborn Orlesian woman, feeling the knight catch the fabric gently. “What do you ask of me?” She leaned forward, “Or are you going to hold your boon over my head until you know what you want?”

He shook his head, “Let’s make the best of our rare time off,” Cullen’s eyebrows creased together. “I need to make a circuit of the outer defenses on the other side of the bridge - I don’t suppose you’d like to bundle up and come with me?”

“Does that count as time off?”

“It’s as close as I get in the daytime,” he admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Dorian all but dragged me out here. Said I was starting to talk to myself. And now that I‘m out - I find I‘m reluctant to return.”

“Very well, it’s your boon,” Avexis laughed and shoved her chair back. Cullen rose hastily, “I’ll just fetch my warmer clothes from my chamber and then we’ll be on our way.”

“You don’t have to… it was just a silly wager…” his boldness ebbed away. “You probably have a hundred other things to do.”

“I want to come with you,” Avexis flushed at the unintended double entendre, and Cullen smiled goofily.

“You said that. Again.”

“I don’t… take what I want very often. So don’t argue so much!” Avexis grabbed his hand, and then dropped it immediately, looking around her at the raised eyebrows and mouths hidden behind hands. “Follow me. It will only take a moment.”

Confronted with the door of her chamber, he hesitated to follow her through, “I’m not sure…”

Avexis glanced around and gripped his hand again and yanked him through the doorway. “Cullen, the gossips will talk more if you don’t follow me up than if you do. Josie is up here with me all the time.”

“Yes, but Josie is a… woman,” Cullen tried to explain, his voice hoarse, but his hand tightening around hers.

“Like that matters?” Avexis raised her eyebrow back at him. “It might to me, but not to Josie. As it turns out, the gossips don’t care at all. You coming upstairs might actually help.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize she, that you…” Cullen cleared his throat.

“I said it matters to me, but not to her. Don’t start your own series of rumors, Cullen.” Avexis laughed. “She’s seeing - if you can call it that, with as often as they actually meet - one of those Valos Kas mercenaries that Bull recommended. Quite the potential scandal, but she‘s handling it deftly, as she does everything. I don‘t think she ever looked at me. I never wanted her to.”

“Everyone looks at you,” Cullen corrected with a smile. “How could they not?”

Avexis made a face, “Yes, as if I was a bizarre specimen that should be in a menagerie.” She marched into her closet, and threw a thick cloak onto the bed - a practical carved item with a pillow roll reminiscent of something from the Free Marches. “There’s only a few people who really see me, and not the Herald of Andraste. There seems to be less of you all the time. You, Sera, Cassandra, Varric, you…” Cullen chuckled at her repetition. She crossed over to her dresser and yanked open the top drawer, filled to overflowing with thick wool socks in a variety of garish colors. She grabbed out two pairs and closed the drawer with difficulty while Cullen hid a smile. “I need a larger bureau,” she muttered, “or another drawer just for socks. Cole keeps delivering them while I‘m sleeping. At least, I hope it‘s him. It‘s creepy, otherwise.”

“Even if it is Cole, it’s still a little creepy.“

“You remember him?“ She looked up, surprised, and smiled, “I like him, so I ignore that part. I just hope he‘s not stealing all of them.“

“As you say, Inquisitor ‘All the Socks Are Mine’.”

She sat down on the bed and stripped off her boots, layering the socks over her existing pair, and topping them with a pair of bright violet, and then thrust her feet back into her boots, lacing them up with ease. “I have them make my boots large, so I can fit the extra pairs,” she misinterpreted his look. “I might need new boots for L’Emprise du Lion. Temperatures are even more harsh there, if you can believe it.”

“I didn’t say…”

Avexis rolled her eyes, “Trust me, I have heard all the comments about my footwear. Everything from Solas claiming that elves have superior circulation and an elevated temperature rendering socks and shoes unnecessary, even in the bitterest cold, to Vivienne claiming she‘s going to introduce me to the people who dress her, as if I need to be saved from myself.” She cleared her throat, “I mean, it’s not like most people ever see them at all.”

“I like them,” Cullen argued instantly. “It’s nice to see you wearing something you like instead of what everyone wants you to wear.”

Avexis flashed him a smile, “Merci. I‘m dreading what Josie, Leliana, Vivienne and Dorian decide is appropriate attire for the Winter Palace peace talks. It seems that right now they are divided over their desire to show me off in a dress and arguing that we all need to wear the same uniform. I believe that they are intending to compromise. Uniforms the night of the actual ball, and then the ‘before and after parties‘ will allow each of them to dress me up as they see fit. Like one of Josie‘s porcelain dolls.”

“Josie plays with dolls?“ Cullen shook off his confusion, “You’ll look lovely, I’m sure, whatever you wear.”

“At least one of us thinks so. Being pretty has never been one of my priorities.” Avexis laughed, and shrugged, grabbing her cloak. “Come on, before someone discovers that I have the intention of disappearing for a few hours.”

They made their way out of the Great Hall, and down the stairs and out the front gate, Avexis tugging up her hood in an attempt to not be recognized by the guards. The soldiers at the gate snapped to attention for the Commander anyway, but kept their eyes front.

Once across the bridge, Cullen took her arm and directed her along a narrow foot path, “This way, Inquisitor.”

“Avexis, Cullen.”

“I suppose… I suppose we could,” he glanced around cautiously. “There are scouts out here, you know.”

“Most of which have heard Bruce’s little stories.”

“True,” Cullen sighed, “All right, Ladybird, you win.”

“Don’t bother, if it’s such a trial,” she grumbled, and slipped slightly.

Cullen caught her arm. “Watch your step.” Avexis slipped around and caught herself on his chest. “It’s… a little slippery, here.” Avexis raised her eyes to meet his, still annoyed with his last comment. “It’s not a trial,” Cullen explained lowly. “I just… oh, hang the rumors, Avexis.” His face softened, “I wish I could call you that all the time.”

“Then do it,” she offered, lowly. “I don’t mind.”

“Josephine and Leliana will,” he dropped his eyes away with difficulty. “Come on, let’s make our way down to the glacier, shall we?”

They were silent for a time, as they made their way down the steep path, the shadows of trees striped against the snow. “So why did you really want me out here, away from everything?”

Cullen blinked, “What? No, there was no ulterior motive… I just… you said…”

“No motive, hmm?” She couldn’t disguise her disappointment. “Oh.” She shivered slightly and clutched her cloak to herself a little tighter. Maybe she had been mistaken after all… perhaps he just enjoyed flirtation over his chess games. His banter with Dorian could reflect…

It was all easier in the dark. With dawn came confusion and fumbling.

Cullen wrinkled his forehead. “I mean, I did want to see you alone,” he confessed. Avexis smiled a little. “But you’re safe with me, Ladybird.”

“Not as reassuring as you might think,” she cast a sideways glance at him. “Perhaps I’d rather not be safe with you.” She slipped again and grabbed at him, and they both slid down the loose snow at slow speed until they were stopped by a tree, thumping gently into Avexis’ back, Cullen‘s arm braced above her head. Cullen didn’t let her go and she tightened her grip on his bicep. “Or rather - I feel safe with you all the time, Cullen.” She could see his pulse speeding up in his throat and she whispered, trying to make her voice sultry, “An isolated walk in the woods isn’t going to change that.”

“That’s good,” he whispered, looking at her lips. “I want you to feel comfortable with me.”

“I wouldn’t say comfortable,” she laughed deep in her throat. “But safe, yes.”

“What’s the difference?”

Avexis opened her mouth and flushed, closing it again, losing her attempt at seduction. “Just… you’re too freakishly handsome for me to be entirely at ease in daylight.”

“Handsome?” Cullen flushed, “I, um… thank you. Unless… isn‘t that what you called your old Remedial Common tutor as an insult? Maybe I should be hurt.” He refocused on her mouth before he frowned, “Freakishly? In daylight?” He raised an eyebrow, “Perhaps I am insulted.”

Avexis coughed, “When we talk at night I can’t… see you. It‘s easier. To be myself.” She flushed vivid pink with embarrassment, adding color to her already cold cheeks and ears, and then looked up at the sun sinking all too quickly behind the mountain peaks. “Speaking of night, it’s going to be too dark to see soon. The moons aren’t supposed to be full, are they?”

“No,” his voice was hoarse. “No, they aren’t, Ladybird.” He took her hand, and wrapped his fingers through hers. “Avexis…”

“Cullen,” she started, her voice husky, “Do you think…”

“Yes,” he said, his voice rising, and breaking slightly.

She looked away, “Do you think we should try this again, earlier in the day?”

Cullen slumped against the tree sideways, “Yes, of course. Let’s get you back to the Keep.” He began to drop her hand, but she clutched it tighter.

“Cullen - I don’t want to go back,” she searched his face with her eyes. “I like spending time with you. Alone. At night and during the day. I like it - too much.” She smiled at what she found there. “Do you understand?”

“Maybe.” He squeezed her hand. “Maybe I feel the same way.”

“Then let’s not go back,” she whispered. “Not right away. I… I can see in the dark, a little.”

“There was something I wanted to discuss with you.” He glanced down, and kept going. “I thought it might be easier away from the interruptions.”

“You can tell me anything.”

Cullen straightened, and cupped the back of his neck. “I… quit taking lyrium.”

“Cullen Rutherford,” Avexis stared, “Ha, ha, ha, trés amusant, and now Sera leaps out and throws a pie at my face?” She paused, searching him for the joke, and didn’t find one, “Do you have a death wish? Are you sick? Of course you‘re sick. Stupid thing to say - you quit taking lyrium.” She stressed the last word, her voice edging on panic. “You’re going to die.”

“Cassandra says I’m fine.”

“Cassandra knows? And this is when you two choose to tell me?” Avexis cleared her throat, aware she sounded hurt. She had no right to be hurt. It wasn’t her business… but her mouth had different ideas. “Why?”

“I… quit the Order after Kirkwall,” mumbled Cullen. “I haven’t taken it since then.” He smiled slightly, “You know my last name. That’s…”

“Don’t change the subject. Of course I know your last name.” She had looked it up in Josie’s records way back in Haven. “I also know your nameday, your hometown, and the name of the Chantry where you trained as a knight. I’m the Inquisitor, I’m supposed to know these things. Cullen… you could die.” Her voice broke. “I don’t want you to die.”

“So far the withdrawals are manageable…” His voice was soft, almost caressing. “Avexis… I’m not going to…”

“Your hands shake,” she grabbed one immediately, just to feel it quiver. Shaking meant he lived. “Your nightmares. Your headaches… All of it… you don’t sleep because of this…” she shook her head. “Cullen… are you in pain?”

“I can endure it.” Avexis closed her eyes, his hand still trapped in hers. “I don’t want to be bound to the Order any longer, Avexis.”

“That‘s not what I asked!” she snapped and whacked his shoulder, and the resulting pain in her hand matched his painful words. “Have you seen a healer? Cassandra isn’t a healer! I don‘t want you to die! You have to see a healer!” She grabbed his coat and pulled him down. “Why are you willing to die for this?”

“I…” Cullen glanced away. “I… don‘t want to… forgive me.”

“The Blight and Kirkwall again,” Avexis sighed, her anger already ebbing away into terror and sadness. “Je comprends, Cullen, I understand. Kirkwall was… C’est conneries. I know that much. Kinloch must have been even worse, then?”

“Yes,” he confirmed simply. “I’ve never felt so… helpless.”

“I understand helpless. I won’t pry,” Avexis promised, very gently now indeed, as if she had never been angry at all, stroking his coat smooth on his chest with her left hand absent-mindedly, her other still trapped in his. “You haven‘t pried.”

Cullen‘s face twisted, “I didn’t want to - not without being willing to share myself.”

“Tell me when you’re ready to talk then,” Avexis lifted her marked hand and covered their linked hands with it. “In the meantime… I… I’m here for you. Whatever you decide. It‘s your choice, not mine. I… understand difficult decisions.” She dropped her eyes, and wrapped her arms back around herself, trying to breathe through her fear for him. “We should get back after all, shouldn’t we?”

“Can we take the long way?” Cullen asked quietly. “I… I don’t want to go back. Not yet. You don’t have to talk to me or anything… but I don’t get out of the office much anymore. The fresh air is… nice.” He took a deep breath. “As is the company.”

“I always want to talk to you, Cullen,” Avexis pinned him with a fierce stare, the anger welling upward again. “You’re the one who won’t speak. And I‘m not talking about Kinloch.” She started off, slipping only slightly on the frozen river’s ice in the opposite direction that they came from. “Allons-y.”

“You won’t say anything either,” he countered, as her hand dropped away from his. “You want to know what happened to make me risk everything, just to be free of chains. What happened to you, that made you so afraid to live?”

“Don’t,” she clenched her marked fist and jaw until they throbbed in time with each other. “You don’t really want to know. There‘s… been enough darkness in your life already.”

“I do,” he pressed. “Tell me, Ladybird. You‘re the last mage that should ever have elected Tranquility! What happened?”

“Everything!” She exploded, and aimed her hand out at a lone shrub. It split with lightning, sizzling and blackening into a small charred stick. “Everything happened to me. Frenic happened. Dragons happened. The Blight happened, the Archdemon happened, Pierre happened, the Conclave happened, and I am scared, Cullen. Always scared. Living is…” she took a breath and it rattled in her chest, “living as a mage is frightening. Magic is all fine and grand right up until the next dragon shows up, or the next blood mage, or the next demon in your dreams, or the next betrayal…” she stopped herself. “Life as a Tranquil was empty, and that… that seemed comforting. I never had to worry about what would happen tomorrow. So when I was offered the option…”

“Offered?” Cullen grabbed her shoulder, forgetting that he wasn’t supposed to touch her. “You were Harrowed! Who ‘offered’?!”

She narrowed her eyes, “My First Enchanter saw me struggling. She…”

“Vivienne was your First Enchanter,” Cullen swallowed harshly. “She didn‘t…”

“She educated me about my options and I chose!” Avexis contradicted. “I chose…”

“It was never supposed to be an option for you,” he hissed impatiently. “It was supposed to be an option for weak, unharrowed mages who were unsure about going through their Harrowings, not…”

“I’d do it again!” She pulled her arm away. “Considering my life in the Circle, the way I was used… a status symbol, a mascot, a convenient Tranquil tool…”

“You said that it was easier to control you as a Tranquil than as an Enchanter,” Cullen’s face was hard. “Your words, Avexis.”

Avexis paled, “Yes, but I didn‘t know that before the Rite… and who said I didn‘t want to live? I want to live, Cullen!”

“Then promise you won’t do it again,” Cullen stepped closer, looming over her. “You wouldn’t. You have a life here. People who care about you. Dare I say it, a family! You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

They were silent for a moment, until Avexis muttered, “Je suis idiote,” and slid further into his personal space and cupped his cheeks with gloved hands and pulled him down. A spark from her lower lip jumped to his and he jerked, just before she closed the distance. Her eyes shut with determination, and she kissed him with parted lips.

Her mouth muffled his exclamation, his lips warm against her shivering, and she tasted cloves on the tip of his tongue as she moved over his mouth. His hands touched her hips, but Avexis let go and backed away. Cullen‘s head followed hers, his eyes wide and locked on her own. “Merde, je suis…” she shook her head and backed away, her hand to her mouth. “I’m going back to Skyhold,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. “We… I shouldn’t have… Je suis désolé … I’m sorry, Commander. You didn‘t want… I‘m so sorry.” She spun and scuttled away, slipping once, and then twice on the ice, catching herself against brush before she could fall.

She heard him call out, “Ladybird, don’t…” as she scrambled back up the steep hill, cursing trees as they broke away in her hands. She heard him just behind her, and she panicked.

“Zut!” She used Fadestep and escaped from the scene of embarrassment. At the top of the hill, she stopped, just long enough to pull up her hood.

With luck, that would be enough to hide her tears.

 

_< EotD>_

 

She tasted just as lovely as he had imagined, sweeter than honey, and his lip tingled where she had shocked it, somehow both numb and sensitive at the same time. He could feel the tip of her tongue just beyond her parted lips, but as he lifted his hands to her hips to pull her closer, intending to dedicate himself to the task, she pulled away. He followed her, not ready for the moment to end.

She had kissed him, his brain supplied ever-so-helpfully. She had _kissed_ him. She had kissed _him._ His hands reached for her again, intending to return the favor, but she slipped out of reach.

“I’m going back to Skyhold,” her voice shook, and he shook his head, in denial and to clear his head, to form a protest - one that she’d listen to. “We… I shouldn’t have…” she muttered something in Orlesian, her face contrite and troubled and - scared? Had he scared her? How? “I’m sorry, Commander. You didn’t want…” He lifted an arm towards her, his words not working, his tongue still tasting her. But she was backing away, turning away, running away, slipping away.

He found his words, too late. “Ladybird, don’t run…” He could hear her muffled curses as branches of trees gave way so that she couldn’t climb. He went after her at a stumbling run, hoping the delay would let him reach her. “Ladybird…” but he heard the soft pop that meant she had used Fadestep rather than let him catch up.

Cullen muttered, “Shit,” and twisted sideways, with his hand at the back of his neck. “Why didn’t you fucking wait?” He slammed his fist into a tree, its lower branches peeled away where she had tried to use them for leverage. “Damn it, Avexis, why couldn’t you wait for just a moment?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tres interressant - very interesting
> 
> Batard and Salaud - both mean bastard.
> 
> tres amusant - very funny
> 
> C'est conneries. - It's bullshit.
> 
> Allons-y - Let's go. (You know this one, right? ;) )
> 
> Je suis idiote - I'm an idiot.
> 
> Je suis desole - I'm sorry.
> 
> Zut - Damn


	27. Headaches, Hikes, and Giants

Cullen spent the night half listening for a woman to join him on his roof, praying that she would. His prayers went unanswered, and he made his way through the halls to the War Room, his heart throbbing in his head at the thought of seeing her, and what he could possibly say, or do. Did he dare pull her aside for a private word after the meeting, despite Leliana and Josie?

Despite Cassandra? Her rules might have ruined everything. He had to try to explain…

But when he arrived, slightly late, Avexis wasn‘t there at all. “What do you mean she’s gone?” His voice broke, and his brain supplied all the various obscenities that he could never seem to voice in her presence.

“She decided not to wait for additional supplies, given your fresh information about lyrium mining, and headed out to the Emerald Graves immediately, so that she could start tracking down the Red Templars with just her Inner Circle… minus Madame de Fer. She was very specific about the exclusion, but didn’t say why,” Josie said slowly. “She seemed rather… agitated. Did something happen?” Cullen could feel her taking in his tired eyes and flushed cheeks.

Cullen cleared his throat and attempted to calm himself, “No, nothing.”

“Nothing?” Leliana prompted. “Did you see her last night? She woke both of us very early to say that she was leaving.”

“I did see her yesterday, but she didn’t say anything about leaving!” Cullen exploded. “She just…” he broke off his words in response to Josie’s suppressed excitement and Leliana’s smug knowing gleam. “Nevermind. It’s none of your business.”

“On the contrary, if you’ve been doing things to upset our Inquisitor, I think we all need to know,” Leliana ran her fingers along the edge of the war table in a gentle caress. He wondered if she had a dagger concealed underneath. It seemed the sort of thing she would do.

“It wasn’t me! She was the one that…” Cullen shook himself. “Are we done here?”

“I suppose,” Leliana shrugged, and Josie nodded slightly, crestfallen. “If you’re not going to share, anyway.”

“Good, I have work to do,” snarled Cullen, as he turned on his heel and walked to the door.

“Next time, you ought to kiss her first!” Leliana called after him, and Josie gasped. “I have eyes everywhere, Commander!”

The door slammed after him, his bootheels echoing down the hallway, his fist clenched at his side. Josie’s assistant dodged, flattening herself against the wall rather than be ran down.

Back in his office, he braced himself on his desk and then, in a fit of temper, shoved all the paperwork to the floor, the Mabari she had given him tumbling to the floor afterward. “Damn it,” he grunted, bending to pick it back up, and then winced, as a particularly severe burst of pain shot through his skull like an arrow. “Damn it, Avexis. Why didn‘t you just wait?”

He picked up the Mabari and slumped to the floor, back against his desk and head hanging, with his eyes closed. “Why didn’t you wait?”

< _EotD_ >

 

The Emerald Graves were - not what Avexis had been expecting. ‘Graves’ suggested bleak tombs, necropolises, the sort of place Solas would treat with reverence and many, many lectures to his hapless, ignorant companions. Instead, she was immersed in a jungle of beauty, with rare flowers scenting the air, running rivers singing her to sleep at night, and the graceful August rams bounding across the uneven terrain, dodging black-snouted nugs and nibbling rashvine. Even the massive bears couldn’t ruin her appreciation.

It was idyllic, would have been perfect, if not for the constant bickering and complaining from her dearest friends, yet another dragon lingering at the edges of her mind, and the guilt that lingered from her ill behavior back at Skyhold. 

Even Solas was rude about the magnificent trees planted for the defenders of the Dirth. “Personally, I think it’s a nice thought,” she told the elf after one too many derogatory comments about the Dalish. “This way, they could almost live forever, like all the stories say elves could, long ago. Standing guard over their homeland for eternity... Who knows, maybe this is what 'living forever' meant.”

Insulted, L’Oeuf moved to the back of the party.

“You would think being immortalized as a tree is romantic,” Cassandra criticized.

“We’re going to get hopelessly lost and never find our way back to civilization.” That was Dorian. “The foolhardy nature of this expedition will kill us all. No proper preparation. Bugs everywhere… already exhausted from Crestwood, only to throw us into the middle of nowhere… Why are we here? And don‘t tell me ‘for letters‘. That‘s not why you snuck away.”

“Should of let us have a rest. Rushin‘ us away in the middle of the night.” Sera pouted. “Hate friggin’ woods. Give me a city, every time. How come elfy elves never left their stuff in normal places?” She observed Avexis suspiciously, “You gonna say what set you off?” 

“Nothing happened,” Avexis growled at Dorian and Sera. “Quit prying.”

“My dear girl, if you didn’t want to talk about it, you should have brought Vivienne, instead of leaving her at Skyhold. Maker knows she has nothing to say to you lately. I would have appreciated the break. You know I despise rising so early, just to get back on a horse only a few days after we’ve returned. My ass is permanently malformed.“

The Iron Bull grunted, “No, it isn’t.“

Dorian blushed in absurd pleasure, but continued, “We weren’t even planning to go to the Emerald Graves until after the ball at Halamshiral! We were supposed to leave for the Western Approach in a week, and the Hissing Wastes,” Dorian spoke easily, not even panting in the humidity, as they climbed the steep rocks towards what the scouts assured them, was a giant worthy of Bull’s attention, and the next major connection to the lyrium mining plot. “You‘re worrying me, Avexis. Why the sudden need to kill Red Templars?”

“This isn’t about revenge. It’s about tracking down Samson,” Avexis contradicted. “I want their letters, not their lives. We promised Fairbanks we would help him. These Freemen of the Dales are a real threat for not just his people, but for Orlais, and all of Thedas.”

“I’m with Dorian on this one,” Bull rumbled. He wasn’t panting either. “I’ve never seen you so hot and bothered, Boss. You and Cullen have a fight?”

“Did Cully-Wully make you cry?” Sera pouted. “I can slip something to him… The Champion’s sister left laxatives laying around…”

“Don’t you dare,” Avexis threatened, her ears turning pink. “He barely eats as it is, Sera. There are days…”

“But they’re not together,” Dorian informed Bull dryly. “No, not at all. They’re ‘just friends’. ‘Just friends’ that keep track of how much the other has been sleeping, and eating. Who Chant together, and tell each other everything except that they want to…” he paused to find a suitable metaphor.

“Fuck each other like nugs in heat?” Bull offered, with some interest.

Dorian shuddered, his lip curling in disgust, “So inelegant.”

“Ce fut seulement un baiser*!” Avexis covered her mouth. Cassandra slipped on the boulder she was climbing.

“Avexis…”  


“You kissed?” Dorian stopped halfway up the stone steps that were just hidden by the huge rocks she had just scaled with extreme difficulty. Trust the Tevinter to find an easier way up a fucking hill. “Bella donna… did you really?”

Sera launched into a combination of vomiting and kissing noises. Avexis blinked at her in confusion and then backpedaled, denying, “I said we didn’t…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Cassandra accused.

“You kissed the Commander,” Bull swallowed hard enough for his Maker’s apple to bob, and braced his axe behind his neck sideways, a hand on each side of his head. “Shit.” Dorian’s eyes crossed, and then drifted down towards the Qunari‘s billowing trousers, before snapping away, his face darkening when he realized Avexis had caught him looking. “We are talking about Cullen, here? Commander Uptight? Can‘t even flirt right?”

Cassandra hit him in the stomach, and Bull rubbed it, absentmindedly. “He’s a gentleman.”

“So gentlemen can’t flirt? That the way it goes?” Bull grinned, “Guess Dorian’s not a gentleman.”

“What do you know about flirting?” grumbled Dorian. “Showing up at people’s rooms and offering to let them ‘Ride the Bull‘- as if it was a privilege to earn instead of…”

“Not thinking about it!” Sera announced at the top of her lungs. “Keep that shite to yerself.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Avexis glanced away, her face troubled. “I… I did it. I kissed him. And he didn’t kiss me back. So nothing happened. Can we stop talking about this? Please? Rejection is hard enough without you making fun of me.” She avoided Solas’ attention, and shifted to walk the path Dorian had conveniently found for the rest of them.

“No, we can‘t,” Dorian grinned, and started walking up the hill again. “Rejection, hmmm? Did he push you away? Tell you to stop?”

“No,” Avexis whispered, bright red clashing with her blonde hair now. “Maker, Dorian - he didn’t do anything. He just… stood there. He didn’t even touch me, not until… I ran away, when I realized I had forced myself on him. I‘m no better than Pierre…” she choked, “Maker, I wish… I wish I didn’t have to go back.”

Cassandra snorted, “Forced yourself on him? Did he tell you that?”

“No, but…” Avexis looked upwards into the mottled beams of sunlight trickling through the thick canopy of the forest, “but when you kiss someone, they kiss back. That is, if they’re… interested. He wasn‘t interested.” Cassandra held her breath, her face a mottled purple. “Cassandra - are you well?” The Seeker shook her head.  "Perhaps you should sit down.  You look - hot."

“You probably just took him by surprise,” Dorian sniffed. “You’ve been dancing around each other for months. For you actually to make a move - the shock might have killed him. Did you check his pulse? Where were you? Do we need to send a raven back to Skyhold and check that the Commander is still amongst the living?”

“Cully-Wully’s fine. They were on a walk,” Sera piped up, with a tone of disgust. “Talking about sweet stuff, and him being all courtly, saying she had family, and arguing about being Tranquil and whether she would do it again or not… and then she called herself an Orlesian idiot, not without deserving it, ya know, and kissed him, ‘BAM!’ and he just sat there, while she cussed, apologized, and ran away. And then he cussed, but weak-like - he‘s shite at it - while wishing you hadn‘t left so fast.” She snorted, “Mages. You don’t take your time - even at kissing.”

Avexis had stopped mid-path and stared at her friend. “Sera, were you spying on us?”

“As if,” she snorted. “I was watching for Bruce. Tracking his steps because I wanted to booby-trap his rounds, trying to get back at him for talking bad about you, before you two just showed up and ruined my lookout spot. Not my fault you didn’t see me, and I couldn’t get away, is it?”

“This is bad…” Avexis whimpered, her eyebrows pulling together. “How many people did you tell?”

“Nobody!” Sera scowled. “Wouldn’t have talked at all, iffen you hadn’t said something first. You brought it up,” she grumbled. “You’re on thin ice, Quizzy. This might mean pies.” She paused, “I could use a pie. Or three. Maker, I‘m starving.”

“Yeah, I’m with Dorian on this one. You didn‘t give him time to react.” Bull lost the train of the conversation as he crested the top of the hill. “Shit, will you look at that?!” Three giants were fighting Red Templars, pounding them down into the ground and throwing rocks at them. “Boss… can I go play?” He bounced on his toes, warming himself up.

“Go play with the other children, Bull,” Avexis sighed, and waved him forward at the same time as she settled a barrier around the rest of them. “Just mind yourself. It’s all fun and games until someone gets squished by a giant’s rock.”

“Mayhem, Sera,” Bull quivered with excitement and swung down an axe larger than his head. Dorian sighed slightly, looking at his muscles, before swirling his hand in a movement to mark the giant with his death magic. “Mayhem!”

“Still not letting you toss me, weirdy,” Sera muttered, nocking an arrow. “Get that right out of your head.”

Bull smiled winningly at Avexis instead, “Hey, Boss, wanna ride?” Avexis’ face lit up and she launched herself at the Qunari, clambering up like a squirrel to sit astride his shoulders. Cassandra paled, and drew her sword, and for a breathless moment, Avexis thought she intended to attack Bull.

“Fasta Vass,” Dorian cursed, “You can‘t…”

Avexis stuck out her tongue at him, “You’re just jealous because you weigh too much for a ride.” She clambered to her feet as Bull braced her calves, while she gripped his horns tightly. “Shit, this is high…”

“I don’t want to ride… that is-” Dorian sputtered, as Avexis stepped around his horns and leaned, ready for Bull to toss her forward. Dorian, despite his vocal disapproval, cast another barrier around her, just before she flew, firing off a static cage in midair to trap the giant inside with three Red Templars, and tucking and rolling away as she hit the ground. She used the momentum to rise again, shooting off three fireballs from the opposite side of the battle, before dodging the giant‘s attack with Fadestep.

She panted for a minute, exhilarated, bracing herself on her knees.

“Shit, that was awesome!” Bull hooted, and bashed the now-trapped and flaming giant with his axe. “Let‘s do that again, Boss.”

“That was… neat,” Sera admitted. “I’ll think about it. Maybe.”

“Cullen will never forgive me if you kill yourself pulling off a trick like that,” Dorian scolded, and cast another barrier over her, a smile playing around his lips. “Never again, you hear me?”

Avexis grinned and ignored him. “Bull - anytime,” she whirled around to mark one of the Red Templars with her own mark, just in time for Sera to take him down. She resurrected him and directed him at the giant. “Beat you, Dorian.”

“This is not a contest,” Dorian stressed. “And I don’t see you casting any more barriers, Amica.  Defense is just as important as offense in...”

“Eh, you’re better at them,” Avexis sassed, and deliberately Fadestepped through the melee to pick up a letter sitting next to a wagon, and sat down to unfold it, grinning with tight lips at what she found within. “Finish up, guys.” She waved the letter at them. “We’ve got Samson.” Her smile faded, “I guess we have to go back to Skyhold soon.”

“Thank the Maker,” Cassandra sighed, cheeks still red, but at least breathing. “You need to clear up this… misunderstanding. Immediately.”

“Can’t run from your troubles forever, Boss,” Bull grunted and felled the giant with an overhand strike. “He’s your Commander. You gotta face him sometime. Either quit pining or do something, already.”

“I did do something. He did nothing back. It would be nice to… surmonter*, before we have to go back,” Avexis murmured, folding the letter away carefully into her belt pouch.

“Oh, you want to get over him, all right,” Sera snickered, “A leg over him.” Bull snorted, amused.

Dorian rolled his eyes. “If you wanted time and distance, we could have gone to the Hissing Wastes. At least there we would be killing Venatori. You know - Corypheus' real threat?”

“So all these Red Templars are just, how do you say it... a pleasant distraction?  Are you volunteering to head into the wastes alone but for your magic, Dorian?” Avexis sassed.

“If that’s what it takes, yes.”

Cassandra narrowed her eyes, “I think you didn’t really want to go so far away.“ She paused, and added, more hesitantly, “Were you hoping he would come after you? That doesn‘t happen in real life, Avexis. In real life, they just let you go.”  Her voice was all too quiet.

“Of course not! He’s the Commander! He can’t just chase after… ugh.“ Avexis’ disgusted noise rivaled Cassandra’s own. “Let’s go back to camp. I don‘t want to talk about it.”

　

_< EotD>_

 

“I fucking hate the Emerald Graves,” Sera muttered, nose pressed up against the library window in what Avexis had to admit, was the spookiest place she had ever been in her life. “The whole forest is frigging elfy ruins, disturbing trees with faces, or creepy possessed mansions. I hate ghosts.” She shivered.

“You don’t believe in ghosts.”

“How didya know that?” Sera stammered, and jumped as a door slammed shut just behind her.

“You told me, in Redcliffe. You said people didn‘t come back.”

“You can know something doesn’t exist and still get freaked out. Demons are still creepy, even when you know they‘re nothing you used to know,” Sera announced, scowling. “I wish you wouldn’t talk about - that, either. Can’t you just - pretend - not to know anything, like the rest of us?”

“Excuse me, I know everything she knows,” Dorian argued.

“Pretending the world is… normal is hardly the best way to defeat Corypheus, Sera,” Avexis sighed, shivering, “Mind you, I don’t like this place either. The Veil is so thin - rice paper thin. Makes me feel like ants crawling on my skin.” Dorian and Solas both nodded in grim agreement. She looked up at a portrait hanging on the wall. “That must be the child we read about in the servants’ quarters.”

“Poor kid,” grunted Blackwall.

“She certainly didn’t have much of a chance,” Avexis admitted. “If her parents had just sent her to the Circle, maybe…”

Cassandra shook her head, “It’s not the first time I’ve seen parents deal with mage abilities in… extreme ways. It’s tragic, every time, what they do in the name of ‘love‘.” Her lip curled up at the books in front of her, dealing with the crazy, abusive theories of how to render a mage child ‘normal’ again. “Such bullshit.” She slammed the books shut. “I refuse to look at these a second longer. It‘s not going to change the outcome.” Avexis nodded, looking sick.

Dorian gathered up the books. “I… usually object to destroying reading matter, but in this case, I’ll make an exception. I’m going out to the courtyard to light these on fire.”

Avexis stared up at the portrait of the girl in question. “It‘s so sad.” She touched the frame. “They forced her into possession. They left her alone with her voices, until she stopped paying attention to anything else.” A slam echoed from further in the house and Avexis pulled away, “I suppose all we can do now is destroy the demon. There‘s nothing left of the child at all. She never had a chance.”

Solas nodded gravely.

“It’s all we can ever do,” Cassandra sighed. “Are you - all right?”

“Yes. No.” She tried the nearest door only to find it locked. She rested her head against it. “I’ll be fine. We just… have to find another way.” She pulled away. “Maybe there’s a way to the outside balcony outside.” Cassandra touched her arm. “I just hate - not having an option.”

“I know.”

Back at camp that evening, Avexis twirled a single Embrium in her fingers, making the lily’s pollen scatter over its petals in a green dust. Varric pulled himself up on the fallen log next to her. “You don’t look all right, Fancy, whatever you told Seeker earlier. You look sick to your stomach. Want to talk, or did Tiny‘s spices finally get to you?”

She stared intently at the flower, “Varric, do you ever… do you ever question things?”

“Depends on the things.”

“I’ve been thinking lately, that perhaps Anders has a point. That the Circles were oppressive, and that mages deserve more freedom,” Avexis began, “but then we go to the mother-of-all creepy manses today, to deal with a little girl who was driven into possession by her own parents, because they wouldn’t send her away. Because they thought they could change her, make her… ordinary.”

“Seems to me that’s her parents’ fault, not hers.”

Avexis shook her head, “Yes, they drove her to it, but she let it in. You cannot be possessed without giving the demon permission. It’s why willpower is so important. The worst ones make you want them.”

“She was just a kid, Fancy.”

Avexis lifted her head and stared at him, “So was I. I didn’t let them in. I could have, at any time. But I had the beginnings of training, remembered that I-”

Varric’s face cleared, “I get it. Because of the Circle, you knew that you shouldn’t listen.”

“I fought, instead of listening. They weren’t playmates, to me. I knew the danger they posed. Because I had learned.” Avexis’ fingers tightened on the flower. “I - I wanted things, that the Circle couldn’t give me. I wanted things like… a family. To see the world beyond the Tower. Love,” she nearly whispered. “But if the exchange is allowing things like - this - to happen, I- I can’t…” her face crumpled and she lifted the flower to her face. “All those people are dead because her parents wouldn’t let her be taught. Wouldn‘t admit what she really was. Saw her as abnormal, instead of gifted.” The stem of the bloom bent in her fingers and she straightened it. “Or instead of just a different type of normal.”

“I’ve spent a lot of time with Anders, over the years, Fancy.“ Varric shook his head, “Just because you needed special teaching doesn’t mean you don’t deserve the other things, too. Why can‘t it be both ways?”

Avexis frowned, “Nobody ever gets everything they want, Varric. Life doesn’t work that way.”

Varric chuckled, “But does that mean you shouldn’t try? Nobody never got anything when they didn’t reach for it. And your Enchanter Galyan - he was your family. You’re seeing the world beyond the Tower - and it kind of sucks, doesn‘t it?” Avexis managed a short laugh, “And… I’m pretty sure we can’t write off your love story either.” He winked, “I’m a writer. I don‘t have the knack of romances, but… there‘s some pretty heavy foreshadowing there.”

Avexis snorted, “Hardly. What little romance is in my life is all spurious rumor and the opinions of people who weren‘t present.”

“Sera was there, and the way she tells it, you‘re dead wrong.“ Varric grinned, “I’ll be sure to tell Curly it‘s all stuff and nonsense, though. Pretty sure he was there, too. Five will get you ten that he‘s got a vastly different version of events.”

Avexis clutched at his arm. “Don’t you dare. Just let it go. Please? He doesn‘t need to be - reminded of how I hurt him.”

“I’m promising nothing, Fancy.”

_< EotD>_

 

Avexis woke to an empty tent, and slid out of her bedroll, hearing the ravens quarrel about someone disturbing their sleep. She stepped into her boots, and swung open the flap. The light from the campfire illuminated their small camp, and a figure with a hand outreached to the ravens. “Cassandra? What are you doing?”

The Seeker jumped, and hid something behind her back. “Inquisitor, I…”

“The birds are complaining.”

The Seeker flushed, “I… was trying to send a letter. What else would I be doing with the ravens? Not all of us feed them into obesity.”

“To whom?” Avexis’ face cleared, “Did Leliana find the other Seekers? Do we need to leave for… home?”

“No… not yet, anyway. But…” Cassandra cleared her throat. “You should be sleeping.”

Avexis shook her head, and stood up, holding out her hand. “Here, I’ll take care of it. They like me.” Cassandra brought the letter tube around from behind her back, frowning. “What, do you have a secret lover, or something, that you don’t want me to know about?” She teased.

“Ugh,” Cassandra flushed, “No. Of course not.”

“I’m not going to read it,” Avexis promised. “Just tie it to the raven and ask them politely.”

Cassandra surrendered it. “It’s to the Commander.”

Avexis twisted the tube in her fingers, eyes sad, “Cassandra…”

“It’s not about… that.  Not exactly.”

“Oh, really? So what did you have to say to him, that was so important it had to be sent off secretly in the middle of the night?” Avexis crossed her arms, pulling the scroll away from the Seeker’s grabbing hands.

“I just wanted…”

“To interfere.” Avexis sighed, cupping the offending object with both hands. “You can’t make him want me, my friend. You can‘t punch him into... affection, like one of your bears.” She tapped it against her fingers. “I shouldn’t let you send this.  You'll hurt him.  I've hurt him enough.”

“I’m not threatening him,” Cassandra sounded almost shy. “I just wanted him to see your point of view.”

“You don’t know my point of view,” Avexis scowled, but shrugged, and fastened the scroll on the raven’s leg. “There,” she concentrated, and the raven hopped to her hand, and rubbed its head against her arm briefly. “It’ll be there in a few days. But Cassandra - please, stop?”

“It is meant to be,” the Seeker protested, as the bird winged away.

“Then it will happen on it’s own,” Avexis shook her head. “I’m not going to be able to sleep now. Go to bed?”

“Very well,” the other woman touched her arm. “He… cares for you. I know this.”

“I’ve seen little evidence of that,” Avexis whispered and crossed her arms again.

“Give him time. He’s a gentleman.”

“You’ve said that.” Avexis sighed, and pulled out her knitting bag from her tent. “Just go to sleep, Cassandra.” She stared up at the stars through the canopy of leaves. “I’ll keep watch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ce fut seulement un baiser - It was only a kiss.
> 
> surmonter - get over it


	28. Revelations, Merde, and other Bull&*$#

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iduna and I are happy to report that we have no self-control. So have a chapter technically a day early, and expect another Friday. Because no self-control.

“So War Meeting first, Fancy?” Varric asked as they dismounted before the gates, and the stable hands led their horses away, the animals stepping eagerly with the promise of oats and “Samson’s letters have been burning a hole in your pouch for weeks.”

Cassandra excused herself, and marched herself towards the training dummies, her face inexplicably red. Solas, with a air of distraction, made his way towards the bathhouses, and Blackwall turned immediately towards the stables.

Avexis shook her head, “We’re ahead of schedule, thanks to Bull’s newfound enthusiasm about killing giants, and Josie has an interlude with a prominent guest she couldn’t cancel this afternoon. No, we’re going to drop off these letters to Cullen, and then he’ll report on them tomorrow.“ She took a deep breath, and started to climb the stairs that led to his office, feet dragging, and trying very hard not to think about what happened the last time she had seen him.

“Wonderful! We can defrost over ale and Wicked Grace in the tavern.” Dorian proclaimed. “Just what the exhausted necromancer needs.” He poked her with the end of his staff. “And you’ll get to see your strapping young Templar first thing.”

“He’s not my strapping…” Avexis stopped dead, as Cullen opened his office door, cheeks flushed with excitement. She instantly forgot the rest of her sentence in favor of staring at his mouth.

“Inquisitor!” He smiled wide. “You’re back. I trust you’re uninjured, despite all the giants?”

“So I am.” Avexis fished out the letters from her belt pouch, and finished mounting the stairs, at an even slower pace, her heart beating far too quickly to be explained by the scaling of the stairs. “I found these for you.”

Cullen clutched her fingers, still holding the letters, “Thank you, Inquisitor.” His smile was warm, lit up with enthusiasm and hope. “I’ll go over them immediately.” Avexis let go, but he took her other hand in his. “Welcome home, Ladybird.” He seemed to be on the verge of saying more.

Avexis flushed, smiling in turn, and turned away to go. She was halfway down the stairs, almost dizzy with confusion, before Dorian spoke. 

“Did Cullen just call you ‘Ladybird’?” The mage walked much slower going down than up, dragging out her embarrassment like she spun thread on her spindle. “What possible significance does that particular nickname have in your relationship, Avexis?”

“Son langue a fourche*,” Avexis muttered. “Just a slip of the tongue, Dorian, I’m sure. He‘s - happy to get the letters,” she sped her flight down the steps of the battlements away from the man - opting for the long way around to the tavern, versus pushing past him to travel through his office. It was easier to talk to him at night, when he didn’t distract her with his stupid face. And it was all the harder, since she hadn’t seen him for almost a month… all her resistances were weaker. Seeing him had reminded her about the way his lips had felt - chapped, rough, but still so soft…

He hadn’t pushed her away. He was happy to see her. It might have just been the letters, or Cassandra’s interference, but…

“I bet that’s not the only thing he’d like to slip you,” Varric offered, accompanied by a grin. Avexis lost her tentative smile. “That was the look of a man who thought he might be getting more than letters later.”

“Varric, that’s horrible,” Dorian’s face was lascivious. “I think I love you. First drink is on me.”

“Sorry, Sparkler, I don’t swing your way. I’ll buy my own ale. Wouldn’t do to make Bianca jealous. But what’s up with ‘Ladybird’, Fancy?”

“He says I…” Avexis stopped, her face reddening under her recently acquired sunburn. “He says I disappear, like I’m flying away, when I get upset. He quoted a Fereldan rhyme, ‘Ladybird, Ladybird, fly away home‘… said it was about a bug,” her voice was indignant. “Je ne suis pas une coccinelle,” she muttered in her native tongue.

“Oh, shit, that’s way better than Fancy,” Varric’s regret sounded too sincere. “I guess I’ll have to give in on this one then.”

“Don’t you dare.” She reached out, but Varric dodged her grasp.

“Then maybe you should prove me wrong? Go talk to the poor man. In daylight for once,” Varric added, his voice dryer than toast. “We all know where you spend your nights, and Sera‘s version of your last day together gets more elaborate every time she tells it. Cut the man a break. I bet he‘d love to see the way your ears get pink when you talk about him. He misses out on all the details at night.”

Avexis turned back and faced up the stairs, looking back the way they had just come. Cullen was still standing at his door, watching her, holding the letters to his chest. His cheeks flushed slightly as their eyes met. The red of her face deepened. “Shit,” she gasped, unaware she had used the Common word, “I do, don’t I? I just… run away when things get awkward.”

“It’s endearing,” Dorian insisted.

Avexis threw him a critical look. “Well, we can’t have that. I refuse to be endearing.” Deliberately she marched back up the flight of stairs that she had just descended. “Go on without me, all of you. I’ll… talk to you later. Maybe I‘ll see you in the tavern. Or somewhere… else.”

Dorian and Varric exchanged fascinated looks, and Varric shrugged, seeing Dorian’s satisfied expression, “See you later then, Ladybird,” Varric called after her.

Avexis’ ears turned even redder but she marched on.

“Did you need something?” Cullen took a step back, bewildered, like he hadn‘t expected her to return. His letters looked slightly crinkled.

This was a terrible idea. “Not really,” she started, embarrassed, and searching for something to discuss with him. Why was carrying a conversation with him so much easier in the dark? “Except… did you hear from Leliana that a Dalish clan claims that they left me at the Circle as a child? She had been making inquiries about my past, without my knowledge. She actually wrote me in the Emerald Graves to tell me about it. I‘m… not really sure what she expected to find.”

“Are congratulations in order…”

“Fuck, no. I don’t know them. They aren’t my family,” Avexis took a deep breath, trying to ignore that she had said - that word - the word he had used… before. “But apparently - they’re coming here. Their Keeper wants to meet me, to see if it’s worthwhile to trust us. Leliana and Josie said that the Dalish could be valuable allies in their last letter. They wanted my permission to extend an invitation.”

“I see,” Cullen focused on her, and she got the impression there was more he wanted to say, his eyes soft.

“So… if they show up, will you… come to the meeting?”

He blinked, and then smiled, a corner of his mouth upturning. “You’re that scared?”

That smile put her at ease again, all the walls she had thought she raised falling down in an instant. “Petrified,” she laughed and he smiled a little more. “It’d be nice to have a friend there. Cassandra would rather die than do anything more social than Wicked Grace on purpose. Varric… doesn’t do the Dalish, apparently. Hard feelings from something that happened with a clan near Kirkwall? Dorian doesn’t think it’s a good idea for a Tevinter mage to show up to a meeting with an elf clan. I‘m certainly not going to bring Solas, even if we were on good terms after he… and Sera resorts to strange blasphemies when I mention the Dalish.”

“I see what you mean,” he murmured lowly. “Is a former Templar any better, though? The Templars clashed with that same Dalish clan outside of Kirkwall. Not me, personally, I‘m glad to say, but Meredith attempted to round up their mages-”

“It is to me,” Avexis blurted out, wondering if she was about to immolate, her ears were so hot. “Please come. Leliana is - Leliana, and Josie means well, but she’ll deftly maneuver me into a situation that I don’t want. I’m not Dalish. I never will be.” She stared down, finding it impossible to hold his eyes for any longer. “I’d run away, perhaps to the Western Approach, there’s a lot of work to do there, but I’ve just been informed that I… have that tendency, when things get awkward. And I just got back. Josie has plans for me before Halamshiral. Big plans. So… it might not happen at all. I‘m probably borrowing trouble…”

“I’d be honored to escort you to a meeting with your former clan,” Cullen said, very earnestly. “If it comes to fruition, at least.”

“Merci,” Avexis clenched her fist to stop her shaking hands. “I appreciate it.” She turned away, without looking back up at him.

“You’re welcome,” Cullen called after her, not even attempting to hide his smile, even when a runner approached, the latest missive from Leliana in his hands.

　

< _EotD_ >

Considerably later, Dorian showed up in Cullen’s office and sat firmly down on his desk, a little too close to be considerate of personal space. “So… I hear you and our loveliest of lovelies have a date to meet her family? I‘m so proud of you! Finally, progress!”

Cullen dropped the papers he was trying to read, cursing his aching head, and rose from his chair, the feet scraping along the flagstone floor. “No! It’s… it’s not like that. We don‘t even know if they‘re going to show up. There is trouble in Wycome… there will likely be some delay, if it happens at all. I‘m deploying troops to assist, but…”

“Of course it is,” Dorian beamed. “It doesn’t matter a whit that she hasn’t a single memory of the woman. It’s still her next of kin… Probably. We don’t have Dalish in Tevinter - and I‘ve very little understanding of how their clans work. And she asked you to meet her! Do I hear wedding bells?”

“Don’t tease, Dorian. You know she doesn’t feel… that way. She - she would have said something by now.” He turned away, and methodically slid a stack of reference volumes - stacked too tall on the floor - back onto his shelf, one at a time, trying not to think about her mouth against his. He turned too quickly and the remaining books toppled over. “Merde,” he whispered under his breath.

“Who says she hasn’t?” The mage slipped off the desk and made himself comfortable in Cullen’s desk chair with a pleased hum, facing the other man and propping his feet up. “She told us she kissed you. Hard to write that off, even with the lack of sweet nothings.”

“She… told you? Has she said why…” Cullen interrupted himself, “It doesn’t matter if she has. Never mind.” Cassandra’s letter hadn’t given the details he needed.

Two lines couldn’t express much more than, ‘ _She thinks you don’t like her that way. My fault, but you have to do better. Cassandra._ ’

“Why would you say that?” The swanlike mage turned into a predatory bird, somehow managing to loom over him even with his gleaming boots propped up on Cullen‘s desk.

Cullen glanced over his shoulder as he gathered books into his hands, “Cassandra made me promise that I wouldn’t pressure her.”

“Oh,” Dorian pressed his hands together, and then steepled his fingers. “That’s delicious. I can‘t wait to tell Avexis.”

“No.” Cullen was stern. “That would be cheating. She’s… Cassandra said she was put in bad positions before, with a man who she didn‘t feel like she could turn down or avoid…”

“I’m a consummate cheater. But I didn’t realize Cassandra knew the details about Pierre. I thought she had broken things off with Galyan before it happened.” Dorian sat up straight as a rod. “Nothing like the Right Hand to pull a few strings, hmm?”

“Pierre? What strings?”

Dorian deflated, and said, slow and cautious, “Cullen, Avexis was involved, in a semi-serious fashion - very serious for a Southern Circle mage. The man’s dead now, I was there when she shocked the shit out of him in Crestwood. He‘s nothing but ash, now. And he‘s better off that way.” His voice, so careful at first, ended harsh with judgment.

Cullen closed his eyes, and leaned against his bookshelves, his face a mask of pain. “Oh, Maker. I had no idea… he went to Corypheus, then?” Her request rang in his ears… _They couldn’t have all gone to Corypheus…_ had she hoped to find him and been denied?

“Do I really need to answer that question?” Cullen shook his head, “From the way she told it, after I got her very drunk, she was flattered by his attentions. He was handsome, and charismatic. They were rather happy, for a time, in their secret, ever so forbidden affair. That’s the way of such things, isn’t it? It’s all excitement and passion until you have to deal with the fact that he won‘t remove the axe from his footboard. But when she went through the Rite -”

“What happened?” Cullen asked when Dorian hesitated. “I know she should tell me, but… Dorian - I‘m playing with fire, not knowing.” He prayed that it wasn’t as bad as he feared. But if Pierre was the Templar she had recognized - that had recognized her - in Crestwood…

Dorian continued, almost in a whisper, “After the Rite, she walked in on him with another woman. He found her later and… don‘t make me say it. Please.” Cullen choked, his shoulders jerking. “Her Enchanter Regalyan found out and shortly thereafter the man was transferred away, to a Chantry where he no longer worked with mages at all. I suspect all by Enchanter Regalyan‘s doing - he seems to have been capable of pulling a few strings if necessary - and Cassandra knows about Pierre, which means she had something to do with it. And then we met what remained of Pierre in Crestwood, all red and spiky, and she -” Dorian took a deep breath, “she sent him to the Maker.” His voice quieted, “There was nothing left of him when she finally collapsed from lack of mana. I carried her back to camp myself, and told the scouts posted there that the wyvern we were hunting ambushed us. There was a whole family of wyvern - but Bull and Varric killed them, alone.”

Cullen braced himself on his bookshelf with a hand. “I wish… I wish I could kill him myself.” It wouldn’t make it better, but it would be an outlet, at least.

“Yes, yes, we all agreed, right down to Sera, when I told the rest what had really happened - though I don’t believe Vivienne actually gave her opinion aloud. She knew more of the story than the rest of us. She was the First Enchanter at Montsimmard, after all.” The other mage’s eyes were colder than ice, “Her part in everything has yet to be determined. There‘s a reason Avexis left her behind when we departed for the Emerald Graves. Our lady has trust issues.”

Cullen slammed his fist into the shelf, until the wood knocked against the wall, mentally cursing Vivienne and her ‘option‘. “Dorian, I was Knight-Captain in Kirkwall. Tranquil were raped under my very nose.”

“Not literally, I assume. I doubt you even knew until it was too late. What could you have done afterward, but discipline the men involved? I don’t know how Southern Circles work, but you might not even have been able to do that. You weren’t the Knight-Commander, just a captain, correct? Besides, Bethany Hawke claims you were responsible for protecting her and others.”

“That does not excuse anything. I was a Knight-Captain, an officer. I’m still responsible, as if I had committed the crime myself. I should have known. I should have realized - for a million reasons. It’s no wonder she doesn’t care for me…”

“Nonsense. She does more than ‘care‘, I assure you. She doesn‘t come find me in the middle of the night, and she adores me.” Dorian managed a smile, “Thank the Maker that she doesn’t. That would be awkward, considering what I get up to, these days.”

“No wonder she’s said nothing, then!” Cullen slammed a book back onto his shelf so hard the bookcase rattled against the stone wall. “She’s afraid of me. I - I’d make her relive…” He took another sharp breath, his head and chest aching, remembering the look on her face when he hadn’t kissed her back. “Maker. She was so scared…”

“Have you quite finished with the self flagellation, or do you need a few more moments? Would you like a new flail? I haven’t got one myself, but Bull - but I’m sure I can find one. I’m quite resourceful, you know.“ Dorian paused for dramatic effect, “She’s not afraid of you. She’s afraid of herself. Of what happens if she lets go. Of the fact that you, only in her sweet head, mind you, don’t feel the same way. And you! You are so in love with her that when you stare at her I can see you thinking - wishing - that she would love you back with every breath in that exemplary chest. You two panting and pining in the War Room make it impossible to breathe.” Dorian’s nostrils flared in disgust. “You have to be braver than her, Commander.”

The last tome thundered to the back of the shelf. “Are you quite done, Altus Pavus?”

“I don’t think so,” he rose, imperially, his perfect profile silhouetted against the torchlight. “You’re going to break her if you don’t speak. She thinks you don’t want her. Because she‘s an elf. Because she‘s a mage and you were a Templar. Because she used to be Tranquil, and she’s a risk to herself and everyone around her. Because she decided to be a necromancer, instead of a Knight Enchanter, like a good girl should. Because she kissed you, in a moment of delicious impulse, and you were too surprised to kiss her back. She thinks you can‘t care for her, because of who she is, and for the choices she‘s made in her life. Prove her wrong!”

“I would have said something - done something - long before - but I gave Cassandra my word,” Cullen clenched his teeth. “She begins it, or nothing happens at all,” he lifted tortured eyes to Dorian, the circles under his eyes even darker. “I swear, Dorian, I feel more for her than I’ve ever felt for anyone. It… it’s killing me, to watch her leave, wondering if she’ll come back injured, or dead, or having met someone else in her travels that captures her interest. I spend sleepless nights praying to Andraste and the Maker that she’ll come back to me. Not to the Inquisition - to _me_. But I gave my word. My word is all I have left. I‘ve broken too many vows already.” He pressed fingers against his eyes, seeing spots, and wished the pressure would let up, just for a moment, to let him think. He glanced back at Dorian, to see him graced with an odd, crafty sort of smile.

“Then I’ll make sure she speaks.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Perhaps,” The mage sniffed and trailed his hand along the edge of Cullen‘s desk, “but Commander, do keep in mind that while perhaps you can’t make a full confession, due to the letter of the law, that perhaps, just perhaps, you can… bend it a little. You don‘t have to pin her up against a merlon and kiss her senseless to get your point across.” Dorian winked, “Though I doubt she’d mind in the least.”

The idea of kissing Avexis on the battlements in front of the Maker and everyone in Skyhold took hold and rooted itself in his mind, stealing his breath for several crucial seconds. “Isn’t flirting what I have been doing?” Cullen creased his eyebrows in Dorian‘s direction. “I told her that I would never let her sacrifice herself again after what happened at Haven. I’ve held her hand - several times. I told her I would like to spend more time with her. We went for a walk outside Skyhold and she…” he smiled involuntarily, “she kissed me…” his smile faded, and a tone of frustration threaded itself into his voice, “and she ran away before I could say a damn thing, even before I could kiss her back.”

“Oh, Cullen,” Dorian chuckled low, “you need a lot more practice, if you call that flirting. You might as well be dancing with your sister.” He leaned in, “She’s Orlesian. You need to step up your game.” Dorian templed his fingers, eyes narrowed, and his lips spread upward, “I have some ideas. In the meantime, don‘t talk to Cassandra. She has the most dreadful taste in literature, and she‘ll have you spouting horrific poetry, surrounded by flowers and candles. Only a very stout love would survive that nonsense. Stop fretting, too. It‘s quite bad for your complexion.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Son langue a fourche - his tongue slipped.
> 
> Je ne suis pas une coccinelle. - I am not a ladybug.


	29. Apologies, Orders, and Lies

Cassandra came to Avexis‘ room long after sundown, pacing in a manner that the mage had rarely seen from the normally confident woman. “I need to speak to you,” she stood across from Avexis’ desk, her arms crossed self-consciously. “I have something to confess regarding the Commander, and you’re… not going to like it.”

Avexis stared at her friend, wary, and set down her pen. “Is this about the lyrium? Because the Commander told me before we left for the Emerald Graves. I‘m scared - on his behalf - but I trust you both.” She took a deep breath, “Though, I wish you had said something earlier… perhaps we could have found a better way-”

Cassandra didn’t relax, “No. No, I’m afraid not. That was told to me in confidence. I wouldn’t betray his trust. Though I… I am glad he told you.” She swallowed, and lifted her chin. “No, this is… more personal.”

“What is it?” Avexis bit her lip, wondering if she really wanted to know.

“I have - interfered. I may have asked him to… wait until you confessed your attraction,” The Seeker admitted, and followed up in a rush with, “It was a mistake. I was worried for you, after the conclave. The reports about the Tranquil who was cured indicated that he was - unbalanced. I wanted you to find your equilibrium before…”

“What if I had never found it?” Avexis’ eyes were pained and Casssandra flinched. “I thought you liked Cullen… if you were so worried, why did you keep pushing me towards him?!”

“If you confessed first, it would be your choice,” Cassandra sniffed, “I didn’t want you… hurt. The lyrium was a factor, and your Tranquility, and - what happened after the Rite. I wanted you to be happy, but I… miscalculated, took it too far. And I’m sorry.”

“You told him not to touch me, didn‘t you.” Avexis fisted her marked hand, feeling the needles drive into her palm. “You’re not my mother, Cassandra. I don’t need a mother. I‘m many things, but I‘m capable of making my own decisions.”

“I never wanted to be your mother,” the Seeker snapped, “I wanted to give you time to think. To find a balance in all this… mess. The Commander can be persuasive - you‘ve seen him with his troops. He is also not - well, not unattractive. I didn‘t want you to feel pressured… or get swept away by another charismatic personality like…”

“You were the only one pressuring me. And now I’ve thought so much that I’ve decided nothing can come of it at all!” Avexis flung back, anger coloring her words. “It’s a horrible idea for the Inquisitor and her Commander to become involved that way.”

Cassandra shook her head, her face pinched, “I’m trying to fix this.“ she marched to the balcony and pointed across to the far tower. “He’s waiting for you. He’s always been waiting for you. I told you I‘m sorry, Avexis. I‘ll stop… pushing, after this, I promise, but Avexis… don‘t waste this chance.”

“I didn’t waste my first! You wasted it for me, by giving him terrible advice,” Avexis raked her hand through her hair. “One humiliation was enough. Maybe we can be friends, eventually, but… I‘m not brave enough to try again. I cannot.”

“Well, that‘s just nonsense,” Dorian’s head peeked above her balustrade, as the matching feet strolled up her stairs. “You’re the bravest woman I’ve ever known. Certainly brave enough to walk across and talk to her Commander.”

“I‘m glad you‘re here,” Cassandra welcomed him, and Dorian, amused, raised his eyebrows at the Seeker, who scowled back. “Perhaps she’ll listen to you, since she’s ignoring my advice. She‘s refusing to go see him, clear up this… misunderstanding. She‘s being a coward.”

“That is a dire accusation,” Dorian pursed his lips. “Our Lady is many things, but a coward isn’t one of them.”

Avexis’ nostrils flared, “I am not a character in one of your books, Cassandra! Are you so desperate for new reading material that you have to make me the heroine of another? I don’t want to end up alone - and that’s the way this ends. Me, alone, in a Circle without anyone who cares about me. That’s real life, not one of your romances.”

“You’re thinking too much about the end, instead of the beginning and middle!” Cassandra pled. “Stop caring about what might happen, and start thinking about what is! Think of what you can have now, if… Don’t you think I would do it all again, even knowing how Galyan and I ended? I would, a hundred and one times over! It was worth the pain!”

“You’re braver than me,” Avexis turned away and looked out over the mountains. “I’ve never denied that.”

“Well, this is a disaster,” Dorian drawled. “Cullen told me about his promise, Seeker. Look what you’ve done,” he tsked.

“You mean there‘s more?” Avexis’ eyes narrowed. “Cassandra… you haven’t - perhaps I should have read that letter after all.”

“I only told him you were convinced of his disregard,“ Cassandra flushed, and turned away. “I’m going to speak to the Commander. Perhaps he‘ll listen to a sincere apology.”

“I’m not going to say I’m not angry, Cassandra.“ Avexis clenched her jaw. “That’s asking too much. I can’t even forgive you, right now. Go ahead, talk to him. Nothing can come of this. I don’t want him to think I… don’t care. He’s a wise man, he’ll understand my reasoning. But if… if you’re going anyway, tell him,” Avexis dropped her hand and looked at her friend, her eyes lined and worried, “Tell him to see a healer, please. For… the Inquisition,” her voice fell. “If he’s still up this late, he’s still not sleeping. I can’t stand knowing… we can’t have that.” Cassandra nodded curtly, and left, her feet a rapid rhythm on the wooden stairs down her tower. “Dorian, if you‘re here to try to change my mind…” Avexis began.

“You don’t have to change a thing,” Dorian grinned, and settled himself on her couch, an arm across the back, with his legs crossed. “I have confirmation. He adores you - just the way you are, prickly, fiesty, problematic, etc. Would you like the direct quotes? No minds to change, just a sweet intersection of two souls, as well as other things.”

Avexis blushed, “That… changes nothing.” Her voice wavered. “I mean it, Dorian. It’s… not a good idea. We work too closely with each other.”

“Don’t be so stubborn,” Dorian pouted. “Are you the sort of person that will deny themselves a treat just because it’s too easy to reach?”

Avexis opened her mouth to deny it, but sighed instead. She buried her face on her desk. “It just makes it harder, knowing he… cares for me,” she said, the words muffled. “I don’t want to hurt him. He‘s not a treat, he‘s… Cullen.”

“Don’t even try to deny that you don’t want to eat him alive. No one is getting hurt.“ Dorian made a frustrated noise, “I don’t know how to convince you.”

“You can’t,” Avexis sighed, and lifted her head. “I… I have to keep a professional distance. It’s considerate. In time, he‘ll forget my idiotic attraction and we’ll be able to work together. It won‘t end with him outside and me locked away. That would break both of us, Dorian. It will hurt him less this way.”

“Insinuating that it’s too late for you.” Dorian’s forehead wrinkled. “Avexis, he’s already hurting. Won’t you go to him?”

Avexis glanced out the window. “I… can’t. If I go, I’ll… I might…”

“Live happily ever after?”

“Lose control. I can‘t think straight when I‘m near him. You saw me earlier. I get close to him and become a simpering schoolgirl,” Avexis rolled her eyes, “Happily ever after only happens in stories, Dorian, and never to a mage. Didn’t Varric tell you? This is a tragedy. Unless I follow you home to Tevinter, I will never be allowed to live outside of a Circle Tower. There‘s no future for us here - or anywhere in Thedas. Why doesn‘t everyone realize that? And I… don‘t want a…” she flushed, “a relationship that is doomed to end. Cassandra enjoys tragic romances. I don‘t.”

“You aren’t reading the right stories - back home all the really good ones involve humble-born mages finding love and becoming the Archon‘s right hand man. Never Archon, of course - that’s just too far-fetched. You must have the right bloodline to ascend that throne… but it certainly will be tragic if you don’t even try!” Dorian huffed, and stood. “You can’t stay here, wrapped up in your ‘this is better for everyone’ mindset, like a child with a favorite blanket. You‘re deluding yourself if you think that you‘re the only person hurting…” Avexis choked, and covered her mouth with her hand, and Dorian melted, “Don’t listen to me, bella donna. If you‘re a fool, I‘m a bully.” He walked over to her desk and hugged her. “I just hate to see you both so miserable, over something so… silly.” He snapped his handkerchief out of his pocket with a flourish, and handed it to her. “He loves you.”

“Staying professional is silly?“ The handkerchief muffled her voice, and she dared not tackle the last phrase. “How?”

“It’s absurd, bringing professionalism into something as illogical as love,“ Dorian sighed as Avexis wiped her eyes. “Back home, you two would be having the sort of affair between soporati and Laetan that the bards sing about in seedy taverns.” His mouth twisted, “Scandalous, of course, but… in a different way from here. It happens, back home. Magister Tilani married a dwarf - a cousin of Varric‘s, actually. Isn’t Thedas a small world? They were blissfully happy for decades - and she didn‘t have to give up her seat in the Magisterium to do it.” He tilted his head and held her by the shoulders. “Consider giving in, gorgeous girl. For me, if not for Cassandra. We want the same thing, but she’s… she‘s pushing. I‘m asking, for your - and Cullen‘s - sakes. Please. Talk to the man.”

“I’ll… think about it,” Avexis whispered.

“That’s all I ask,” Dorian’s moustache twisted, as he glanced around her room, his eyes landing on her knitting bag. “Consider giving him that… thing you made.” He raised his eyebrow. “The occasion approaches, does it not? It would be a shame to waste your hard work.”

“In a few days,“ Avexis managed a watery smile. “I… I can do that.”

“Good,” Dorian patted her hand. “Keep the handkerchief. The busybodies around here could use another rumor to bandy about. Display it prominently, for me?” He winked.

“I don’t want to get Bull jealous,” Avexis tried to laugh.

Dorian sniffed, “That brute doesn’t have a jealous bone in his body. Believe me, I‘ve tried. He just keeps telling me that ’Of course people are looking. You look damn fine,’ and then he slaps my ass.” The mage huffed.

Avexis laughed, more convincingly, “That’s sweet, for Bull.”

Dorian arched an eyebrow, “Nonsense. That great lug doesn’t do ‘sweet’.”

 

_< EotD>_

 

Cassandra stood in the Commander’s office, facing him, with her arms crossed and a face of stone. He had ambushed her entrance with other concerns than the ones she had been prepared for. “I have already given you my opinion. It hasn’t changed.” He paced, wincing, face creased with pain.

“I can’t do this any longer,” Cullen hissed, “It’s affecting my work. If I can’t keep these vows…”

“The Inquisitor has ordered me to tell you to see a healer,” Cassandra rolled her eyes. “I feel as if I were a village girl, passing on these messages. She‘s… afraid to come see you.” His eyes closed, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, “Ugh. Not like that! She’s afraid because she… cares too much, I believe.” The woman flushed. “I am sorry, Commander. I should not have interfered. This misunderstanding is largely my fault, I know. I did not realize Avexis could be this angry.”

“I… see,” Cullen closed his eyes and turned away to the arrow slit, looking at the moon, his face in darkness. “She won’t come herself?”

“Dorian is with her. He may succeed in convincing her where I have not,” Cassandra answered, stiff and surly. “She is being stubborn and foolish. Much like you. In a few days, perhaps…”

“I will… I will see the surgeon in the morning, at her order.”

Cassandra nodded. “Good. I… It has not gotten worse, Cullen. If anything, the balance of lyrium in your system has improved. It’s likely just stress. Too much tension, and not enough rest.”

Cullen growled, “Between the Civil War and the Red Templars - do you honestly think I‘m going to have less tension at Halamshiral?” He glanced back over his shoulder at his door, still ajar, letting in the night air from the bridge that linked the main keep to his tower. The papers on his desk rustled in the light breeze.

Cassandra’s disgusted noise rang through the rafters, “Don’t remind me. It will be miserable.” She sniffed, “You could… go to her instead. If you‘re there, she may forget her resolve…”

Cullen turned his head, away from the open door. “Not if she doesn’t… want me to. Perhaps when everything is settled we can discuss it reasonably… until then, it‘s best to leave things as they are.”

“You’re made for each other, both of you as stubborn as the other,” Cassandra spat, and then paused. “One of you has to give.”

“She already did,” Cullen’s scar stretched as his mouth turned up on one side. “And I… wasn’t quick enough. I missed my chance. You don‘t get a second chance, not with someone like her.” His eyes dropped, “I should know.”

“She’s used to moving faster.”

“I don’t want anything fast,” Cullen confessed, glancing back out at the bridge. “Not with her.”

“I… see. That does sound like something you should discuss with her, not me,” Cassandra flushed, and cleared her throat. “I’m going then. Please - try to rest. Perhaps things - things will look better in the morning. And see a healer, for the Maker’s sake. She‘s angry enough as it is. I don‘t want her to think I didn‘t pass on the message.” She added, slowly, “She might still come, if Dorian has his way. If only to get away from the chattering.”

“She knows where to find me,” Cullen stated lowly, and Cassandra turned to go. “Goodnight, Seeker.”

“Goodnight, Commander.” 

Cullen waited up, his torches burning in a wordless, hopeful signal for her to visit him. He prayed softly for a few minutes, but his mind was on missing footsteps, not the Chant, and so he gave it up as lost.

She didn’t come.

He propped his doors open and tried to work with the crosswind disrupting his paperwork.

All too soon, he ran out of things to pretend to do, and stepped out on the battlements, just for a change of scenery. Her own candles burned bright. He watched them breathe and gutter in the gusts of wind that reached her tower, his unblinking eyes straining to find her shadow against the stained glass shapes. Once or twice he might have seen someone, but he couldn’t be sure - the shadows were capricious things on a blustery night.

Twice he nearly left, intending to knock on her door, to catch her up in his arms, and make up for his hesitation from before. He turned back at the tower door every time, cursing his slow response.

He finally went to bed, only to pull the sheets loose, and rumple the blankets, somehow hoping she‘d still come, appearing like a spirit at the end of his bed, wrapped in her quilt from Haven, hair unbound and... He jerked awake a second later, gasping, worried that a demon had invaded his dreams with her appearance.

He’d never heard of a desire demon dressed in a quilt and half laced boots, but there was a first time for everything.

She didn’t come the next morning, even though he practiced apologies long before dawn. There were no gifts of cake, or news of meetings or appointments brought by someone more agreeable than a runner. His head ached with rephrasing what he would say, what he would do, how he could convince her that he was sincere.

But she didn’t come at all.

Just before the bell rang for lunch, he left his office at last, cursing as he bumped into walls that shouldn‘t be there, and stumbled down steps that swayed under his feet, on his way to the surgeon. He had to do something, or resign entirely. He couldn’t do this anymore.

He only hoped she would forgive him.

Cassandra was his next stop, if the surgeon could do nothing. He couldn’t tell _her_ \- not considering how weak he had turned out to be. He would tell the Seeker she was wrong, and leave the Keep without the Inquisitor’s knowledge. Cassandra could take over his role as Commander. She would do well, with Rylen’s assistance…

But first, he’d follow the last order Avexis would ever give him, and would consult a healer. She deserved better than a broken Commander determined to break an impossible addiction. This was merely grasping at breaking straws, to stop his slow slide into oblivion, but he would obey. He ducked down to clear the low lintel of the stone lean-to pressed up against Ser Morris‘ office and storerooms, his heart aching at Avexis‘ thoughtfulness, giving her people a dedicated place to recover from their injuries.

Everything in Skyhold reminded him of her. He couldn’t hope to stay.

“I never expected to see you here.” The voice was a familiar one that he couldn‘t quite place. His eyes tried to adjust to the dark room and failed, odd threads of white and grey crossing his vision instead of what he needed to see. “What can I do for you, Knight-Captain?”

The wavery form of Anders emerged from the gloom of the back corner, wiping his hands on a cloth, pouring rubbing alcohol into his palms, and rubbing them together. The scent overpowered, strong enough to make him gag. The mage lit two extra candles with a flick of his fingers.

Cullen winced at the extra light. “That’s not my title. To be fair, I didn‘t expect to see you either, though I should have. It‘s one of those days.” His world tilted sideways and went black for a moment. Instead of hitting the ground, an arm caught and supported him, and he clutched at Anders, despite himself. Better to accept the help of an enemy than embarrass himself entirely. “I need the surgeon, I…”

“She’s in the middle of an amputation,” Anders guided him to the cot nearest him and he fumbled to feel it beneath his hand before easing himself down. “You’ll need a pyre if you don’t sit down. You look dreadful. What have you been doing to yourself?” The healer was peering into his eyes, taking his pulse, tapping his knees, and looking more horrified by the moment.

A grim snort came from somewhere Cullen didn‘t understand. “You don’t look much better.” Anders, once robust, was one step from scrawny, his hair clean but lank in a low ponytail, and his clothes, while neat, hung off his frame. “Is Bethany working today?” He asked desperately, trying to blink the auras out of his vision.

“Unfortunately for you, she’s assisting with the surgery,” Anders sighed and caught up a low stool, drawing it under him gracefully. “This is… awkward, isn’t it? I‘d happily assist you, Knight-Commander, if you tell me the trouble.” His mouth twitched with something resembling bitterness, “Well, not happily, precisely, given that you don’t think Bethy and I are people, but… I won’t let you suffer. Much.”

“Headache,” Cullen blurted out.

“I’ve been called worse,” Anders countered, his lips turning up. “You’ve called me worse, in fact. Let’s see what we can do about the way you look, shall we?” Cullen sat stiff on the cot, wary and confused. “Lay down, I won’t molest you,” Anders purred deliberately. “I’m a married man.”

“Really…” Cullen stammered. “You and _Bethany_? How? When?” His memory vaguely reminded him that Hawke had claimed Anders as family, but… he hadn’t taken it literally.

“She’s a compassionate soul, and despite all evidence to the contrary, I‘m a lucky man.” Anders looked worn out, but his eyes were young and fond. “She took care of me after we left Kirkwall - I was… in a bad place, after. She deserves someone less - driven - but says she doesn’t want anyone else.  We married when we reached Ferelden - not every Mother was against mage freedom. I… love her,” he muttered, but with pride. “Not that it’s a Templar’s business. Not anymore.”

“I’m not a Templar any longer,” grunted Cullen. “That’s why I have a headache.”

“You keep calling me that.” Anders lifted his hands to the man’s temples and focused, a bright blue light shining. “How many years now have I been your headache? Kinloch, Kirkwall, and now…”

“Stop being ridiculous,” grumbled Cullen. “You were a Warden in Kirkwall, and I’m not a Templar. I quit taking lyrium.”

Anders lost his focus, his blue light winking out in an instant. “That‘s unabashedly stupid, even for a Templar.”

“I wanted no ties to the Order, so I stopped taking it. It’s not that complicated.”

Anders stared like he had been hit with a dead fish. “You really stopped taking lyrium.”

“I did. Thus I have the headache,” Cullen repeated, more than grudgingly. “Can you help? Or do I endure? I told the Inquisitor that I can endure it… but it‘s getting worse. I need… assistance. It‘s affecting my work. If you can‘t do anything, I‘ll have to resign.” His voice quieted, “I’d rather not do that.” Admitting it, even to himself, was nearly as painful as the headache.

“You‘d be dead inside a month if you quit. You‘re the sort of man who needs work to give you purpose. You‘ll waste away without a cause, something to take your mind off the pain. And who knows with something like this how long the withdrawals will last.“ Anders narrowed his eyes, “Why are you telling me this? How many times did you drag me back to Kinloch against my will, Knight-Captain? Aren‘t you afraid of Vengeance?”

“I’m the Commander of the Inquisition, not a Templar. I am also… desperate.” Cullen sat up. Anders shoved him back down, his own strength enough against Cullen‘s weakened muscles. “If you demand some sort of justice, get it over with. I’m not even certain that I’d mind, at this point, the pain is so bad. I likely deserve it for what I’ve done. I’m defenseless, without lyrium. If that’s not vengeance enough then do your worst. Just… stop talking so loudly.”

Anders hummed, and an odd light flashed in his eyes. “Strange, Justice agrees with you. I… don’t know what to do with that. Bethany would be angry with me if I refused you care…” he tapped his chin, and sighed. “I… might be able to help. Do you trust me?”

“No, I don‘t.“ Cullen snapped. He tried to focus his eyes, and gave up, closing them again, hating the way the cot swayed under his slightest movement. “But Avexis does. And I trust her.”

“Avexis!” Anders laughed aloud, “You, on such familiar terms with a mage - and that mage! It seems Bethany was right after all. She said she was sweet on you, and suspected it was mutual.” He nudged his ribs with a single finger. “Nothing like a pretty girl to make a man change his mind about magic.”

“That’s not why I trust her.”

Anders sniffed, “Don’t tell me you believe that Herald of Andraste nonsense. I haven’t believed in the Maker since I was a child.” The glow started again, pulsing gently against his temples in a gentle massage, cold but dry. “The Inquisitor is no more the Herald of Andraste than I’m the Maker.”

“Not that, either,” Cullen managed, relaxing despite himself. “She has integrity. She’s raw, and honest. She is… pretty, but that’s beside the point. I’ve… never met anyone like her.” The pain ebbed away, and he was conscious of sharing too much in the relief from the pain. Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“You’re in love with her,” Anders sighed. “That’s touching, Commander.” He changed the tempo of the pulse slightly, and started stroking at the base of his neck. “Does she feel the same way?”

“No,” Cullen murmured, not seeing the point of denying it.

“Not surprising. Mages don’t tend to let themselves fall in love. It has the reputation of causing… problems, down the road,” the healer coughed. “And if the rumors are right, she hasn’t had an easy road. But that’s a reason why I did… what I did, you know?”

“What is?” Cullen struggled to open his eyes and failed. He didn’t like to think about people talking about his… the Inquisitor, like that.

“Mages were denied basic freedoms - even the right to fall in love,” Anders mused, pulling up one of Cullen‘s eyelids to check again for pupil dilation and humming in approval at what he saw. “I did it, so someone like her could love someone like you, and no one could stand in your way. I‘m a little bitter, mind you, that it seems to have worked out for you. There are, no doubt, a number of couples I don‘t know about who are also profiting - better, more deserving ones than a loyalist mage that volunteered for Tranquility and an ex-Templar asshole. That‘s the problem with Justice - true Justice is for everyone, even people we don‘t particularly care for.” The massage ceased. “Does that feel better? I don‘t want you to fall asleep on me. Bethy would never believe I didn‘t cast a spell on you, just to get you out of my hair.”

“It’s… much better. Thank you for not letting me fall asleep,” Cullen sat up. “I can’t afford a nap this afternoon. It… would have been a convenient way to show your contempt.” His head felt lighter, and even his bones ached less.

“I don’t hate you, Commander,” Anders’ eyes were dark with some memory. “Kinloch was shit, but I got out. You weren’t the worst. You talked to us, even if you didn‘t defend us... Meredith was batshit, but you… you made a very difficult choice when it mattered. Much like mine. You turned against your own people to do what was right, for people you don‘t think are people at all. You confuse me, more than a little.”

Cullen met the man’s eyes, his own drooping and tired, now that the pain had lessened, “I’m sorry about Karl. I know it doesn’t mean anything, but I didn’t support the Tranquil solution. I spent time, arguing in Kirkwall - with myself, as well as Meredith. I fought for Samson, for Maddox, and for Karl. The Karl I remembered from Kinloch didn‘t deserve Tranquility.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t mean anything. But - I wondered if anyone even bothered. Meredith certainly didn‘t seem to object, and you were her right hand. Justice still thinks you‘ve made your own vengeance.” Anders turned away and braced himself on a table filled with potion materials. “I don’t suppose you’d smoke elfroot for your pain?”

“Maker, no,” Cullen blanched.

“Too uptight, hmm?” Anders turned to face him, leaning back against the table and crossing his arms. “Then how can we help you? Anything associated with lyrium is out, and that limits more than you think. The Chantry puts blood lotus in their mix to make it more addictive, and to encourage the feeling of invincibility that comes with imbibing. Did you know? You should avoid that, not just lyrium.” He grabbed a piece of parchment and started scribbling, “I’ll make you a list.”

Cullen shook his head, “I… didn’t.” And then added, dryly, “But somehow, I’m not surprised. Another reason to leave the Order, I suppose.”

Anders chuckled bitterly, and then snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it. Spindleweed. It’ll last longer than willow bark tea, and might help you sleep at night… and you can add Embrium to your baths, if you don‘t mind smelling a bit girly. That‘ll help with tense muscles, increase circulation, and heal infections, over time,” he frowned, “You look like you need rest.” His eyes twinkled, “What you really need is a stiff drink, a good fuck, and twelve hours of sleep. I don’t suppose the Inquisitor would…”

“No,” Cullen rose, and took the potion. “No, she wouldn’t. Thank you… Anders.”

Anders held the potion for a little longer, “We don’t have to be enemies, Cullen.”

Cullen nodded, “…I’m trying to do better, here. Truce?”

“If that’s what you’re offering, yes,” Anders agreed.

Cullen smirked, weakly. “We‘ll start with a truce and renegotiate as needed. Is that better?”

“Much, O Commander of the Inquisition. Come back next time you hurt - and don‘t wait until it‘s this bad, either. You don’t get extra points from Andraste for suffering. I have no idea where Templars got that idea from, but it’s fucking stupid. Come at the first sign of pain or vision disruption.” Anders handed him two more bottles of spindleweed, and hesitating, a fourth. “For best results, diffuse the spindleweed in a basin of water, hot enough to steam, and breathe deeply, with your head covered. In an emergency, you can smash the flask, but be aware of your surroundings. This stuff is too strong for children and pets. It takes about two minutes to work. Do NOT take it internally!” He grabbed another slip of parchment and scribbled a single word on it, and then added two more. “I’ll teach Bethy the massage. She’ll chat your ear off while she does it though. Fair warning. She was far too excited to hear you were in charge. If I wasn’t married to her, I’d be jealous.”

“I never touched…”

“Of course not. You’re far too honorable,” Anders winked. “But that doesn’t mean she never thought about it.” He leaned over deliberately, “So did I, for that matter. You certainly had opportunity - when you dragged me back to the tower, all those times…” the mage sighed hugely, “Just like you not to take advantage.” He smirked, “Neria was heartbroken when you ran away from her, but we all knew you would. Why did you run, Cullen? You were so obvious. So was she!”

Stammering, Cullen backed away. “I… I need to go.”

Anders watched him leave with a wry smile on his lips. “Some things never change,” he called after him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry. Monday's chapter is much lighter in tone. We need it.


	30. Rulers, Namedays, and War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Iduna and I love this chapter a bit too much. Forgive us.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Avexis folded her arm at the sight before her. Chargers were lined up on their regular side of the Herald’s Rest, exchanging bets with Varric, eager and rueful at the same time. Anders and Bethany sat nearby, Bethany covering her face with embarrassment, but Anders amused at the scene before them.

In front of the stairs, Dorian and Fenris were facing each other, a one-sided scene of belligerence, as Dorian was already holding his nose, blood dripping down between his fingers. Hawke was behind Fenris, touching his arm and whispering urgently. Avexis was relieved to see that the elf was at least not wearing his armor - if he was, Dorian would probably be missing his nose, not just bleeding from it. The elf’s shoulders rose and fell with his breath, fists at his side.

“Ladybird!” Varric called out. “No worries, Fenris is only playing. Sparkler’s heart would be gone, otherwise. Should have warned you - he‘s not fond of magisters.” Anders snorted loud enough to be heard.

“This doesn’t look like playing,” Avexis said softly, but the entire tavern had gone quiet with the sound of her voice. “This looks like a fight.”

“I made - a mistake,” Dorian waved at her with his good hand. “I’ve already apologized.”

“Apologized for what?” Avexis asked, even more quietly.

“For recognizing him,” Dorian pulled his hand away, and quickly returned it to pinch the bridge. “I think he broke my node. Possibly I deserved it.”

“He broke your nose for recognizing him?” Avexis asked with some confusion. “How could you have deserved that?”

“He knew Denarius,” Hawke explained, her clever eyes darting around, as if looking for a way to escape. “Fenris…”

Dorian waved her down. “I didn’t know him well, per say. But we had occasion to dine with him, once or twice. The wine was cheap and the steak was well done. A vulgar barbarian.” Bull handed Dorian a huge square handkerchief. “Thank you, Bull. He was, however, proud of his slave. Not one of my finer moments, but he allowed me to read his notes. Fascinating reading. Horrific, of course, but fascinating. Why are all the most brilliant minds morally bankrupt, I wonder? Except me, of course. I’m always the exception to the rule. It’s a point of pride that I break all the rules. Not built to fit in, that’s me.” The babbling was muffled by the cloth, but it didn’t disarm his opponent.

“I’m not a slave,” Fenris growled, and Hawke took his hand with the bloody knuckles, pulling on it slightly. Her eyes drew in, worried and sunken. “If these are the Inquisition’s allies, Hawke, we should leave. You can do better than consorting with… filth.”

“We can’t do that, Fenris,” she whispered. “We have to stop Corypheus.”

Fenris’ nostrils flared. “I won’t work with this… magister. And neither should you.”

“I don’t suppose telling you I’m not a magister would help in the least, would it?” Dorian sounded desperate.

Avexis tilted her head back, frustrated and disbelieving. “Would somebody fetch the surgeon?” She smiled suddenly. “And… perhaps a ruler?” Scout Harding dashed outside, and in the back of the room another scout rose slowly to their feet, as if waiting for an explanation.

Hawke helped them out. “A ruler?” she asked, confused. “What for?”

“If these two have to decide who’s cock is bigger, how better than to measure? So we need a ruler.” Avexis folded her arms at the men and shifted to her back leg. “Go on, drop your trousers, and pull them out, both of you. You have until the ruler gets here to get to full size.” Sera cackled from the corner, and then muttered, ‘Ewww…” The scout in the back sprinted for the door.

Bull whistled, and Dorian flushed. “That’s… a great idea, Boss. Gonna remember that one.” Fenris barked something at the Qunari that made Bull clear his throat. “Or not. Where’d you learn Qunlat?” The elf just sneered. Hawke tugged at his arm again, and he looked at her, softening slightly.

“Don’t make it worse, Fen. Please?”

Bull urged Dorian on, “Come on, Dorian. It’ll be fun. You’ve got a great chance at winning… I‘ll put money on you.”

Dorian waved his hand at the larger man. “Everyone wants a look. I know how to pander to my audience.” He pulled his tunic aside with a clean portion of the stained cloth, and started fumbling at his leather laces with his clean hand. “Come on, then, Master Fenris. Let’s settle this the civilized way. At my best I‘m a good-”

Fenris blinked and interrupted, “Hawke. How do you constantly attract these people?” She flushed.

“It’s not intentional. But a lot of crazy things happen to me, Fen, you know that.”

“You’re insane, aren’t you?” He asked Avexis instead, forehead wrinkled.

“Quite likely,” Avexis assured him. “If you’d rather be… selective in your audience, there‘s a private room upstairs…”

“Like the Void there is! I sleep up there!” Sera protested.

Fenris’ mouth twisted and his eyes narrowed, as if unsure whether to laugh or yell, but he caught Hawke’s eyes, worried, and slumped. “Very well. There is no need for this - display. I - apologize for injuring you in the mistaken belief you were a magister and a known associate of Denarius.”

“And I triply apologize for having the gall to recognize you in the first place.” Dorian held out his right hand, still red with blood, and peered at it ruefully. “Ugh. I could never be a blood mage - it‘s so _messy_. After I clean up, may I buy you and your lovely Champion a bottle of wine? Cabot does have a few decent vintages.”

Fenris snorted, and grasped his hand. “Grappa?”

“Of course. We’re not all savages in the South.” Dorian winked, and Fenris’ mouth twitched again. “And you can explain to my… Qunari friend how you learned Qunlat while we get drunk like we like each other.”

Hawke laughed, and Fenris turned a little pink at the sound, as the traces of a smile appeared around the edge of his lips. “Very well,” he intoned, in his gravelly voice. “I accept.” He smiled grimly, “If for no other reason than I would need a yardstick, not a ruler. Your Inquisitor insults me.”

Anders guffawed, “Only in your dreams.” Bethany giggled and swatted him.

“As if you’ve seen it, _mage._ ” Hawke winked at both of them, her eyebrows rising pointedly at her sister. Bethany looked vaguely impressed, and Anders blushed.

Dorian cleared his throat as he led the man to the counter, “So, Fenris, the rumor back home was that you killed Denarius. Is that true?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Only if it was painless. The man was an ass, and Tevinter is well rid of him.”

Fenris stared at him for a moment, “Buy the wine, magister. And then I‘ll tell you how I pulled out his heart while it still beat in my palm.”

“I’m not a magister.” But Dorian was smiling, “And that sounds riveting. I can‘t wait. I don‘t suppose you do requests? I have a long list of Venatori that I would love to see subjected to that.”

Hawke nearly choked, but Fenris appeared to be considering it, as Avexis slipped upstairs.

She had another situation to try to diffuse, this one more personal. 

Her hands shook, as she let herself out of the battlement entrance on the third floor, nodding to Cole, who was peering over the edge, muttering about hearts in hands and red scarves on wrists. Avexis made her way across to the Commander’s tower.

Cullen was inspecting the barracks that evening, and would be absent for long enough for her to do what needed to be done. She opened his door - luckily unlocked, though she knew Cole was just a thought away if she needed to be let in. He wouldn’t mind, not for this.

She stroked the hat and gloves she had made for him, in gold and burgundy, and pulled them from her bag.

His nameday was tomorrow. She hadn’t told anyone else, and Josie, the source of her knowledge, was sworn to secrecy. Leliana probably knew, but wouldn’t tell. He would have thirty years of age.

They were the same age, now, until Cloudreach. She had been surprised to discover that she was almost a year older. She felt so much younger than he. The wasted years as a Tranquil, she supposed.

The room was nearly dark - a single lit torch on the back wall the only sign he meant to return that night. She crossed to his desk, and cleared a small space amongst the piles, looking for a small sheet of paper, and a quill.

She sat in his chair, and wrote quickly, not allowing herself to think about what she said for too long, lest she change her mind:

_Dear Cullen,_

_I’m guessing you don’t want a lot of fuss made over your nameday. But before I knew that about you, I started these. I hope you actually like Mabari, or I’m going to embarrass you with the collection I‘ve started for you._

_I couldn’t figure out the multiple colors, and Sera mocked me, so I just purled, and then stitched in the animals. They’re Mabari… but I already said that._

_It’s a hat, if you can’t tell, and new gloves, to replace the ones you gave me in the Frostbacks on the way here. You don’t need them, I know - but I wanted to thank you. I hope they fit… I used the other pair as size models. Fingers are fucking hard, for the record. I don’t suppose you’d be interested in switching to mittens?_

_Perhaps… perhaps if we get a chance after Halamshiral you could show me how to insert new colors, so that I can do a better job next time._

She paused, unsure how to close. She couldn’t sign a personal gift as the Inquisitor, with all the fancy titles and flourishes. In the end she wrote a simple, “Many Happy Returns of the Day, Avexis”.

She heard a distinct step on the battlements, folded the paper in a rush, and darted to the other door, opening it just in time for the Commander to enter the other way. “Commander!” She greeted him. “I was just… I thought you were supposed to be inspecting the barracks?”

“I finished early. They were a disaster, and they needed to start from scratch,“ Cullen smiled in pleased satisfaction at catching his troops in a sloppy misdemeanor, and crossed to his desk. “Nobody will sleep until they’re cleaned to Rylen’s satisfaction. He’s a picky bastard, so they’ll be up for a while.” He saw the note, and picked it up. “What’s this?”

“Nothing,” Avexis blurted.

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” Cullen grinned, “This looks like… a hat? Gloves?” he flipped the note open, and flashed his eyes up to hers. “Avexis, I, um… thank you. I wasn‘t expecting any…”

“I know,” she flushed. “You don’t have to wear them, or anything. I just wanted to mark the day. When I reached my thirtieth name day, Galyan made cakes. I don’t bake, but… well, this is something better than me bribing Sera to steal the kitchen‘s hard work or asking Cole to do it instead. I… made them.” She frowned, “You can probably tell. They’re awful, aren’t they?”

“They’re wonderful. Just the thing for spying on scouts,” Cullen smiled even wider. “I’ve a free evening, as it turns out. Did… you want to come up?” His eyes were wider than a Mabari puppy’s, and just as pleading. “It’s a clear night. The… stars should be lovely.”

Avexis flushed and tried to quit staring. “I can’t. I have an early day tomorrow - preparations for Halamshiral. Manners are supposed to be drilled into me until I know I‘m not allowed to move without court approval.”

Cullen’s face fell. “Oh. Another time, then?”

“Please,” she whispered, and then frowned. “Fuck this shit.” His eyes widened, “I’m coming up. You only celebrate a 30th name day once. And because of Tranquility, I barely remember mine. I‘m sure the cakes were good, but… I don‘t have a pleasant memory of them. They might as well have been sawdust. I‘ll celebrate mine, tonight, too.” She shrugged, “It’s only a year late.”

The smile on his face made the lecture Josie would give her worth it.

She started up the ladder at once, and Cullen called, “Wait, I… I have something.” He dashed to his desk and grabbed a bottle of wine out of the drawer of his desk. “Some Orlesian asshole… I mean…” he stammered, remembering too late where she came from.

“Go on,” Avexis giggled from the top of the ladder. “I’ve known some Orlesian assholes, too. Assholery is not limited by homeland.” She frowned, “Something tells me that’s not a real word, but it should be. Remind me to ask Varric.”

Cullen chuckled ruefully, “Well, an Orlesian dropped this by after he ‘inspected’ your armies. Said it looked like I deserved a drink.” He climbed up the ladder and handed her the bottle. She whistled at the label, and he blinked. “I didn’t know you could whistle.”

“Like the wind,” she laughed. “How are we going to open it?”

“Hmm,” Cullen looked around. “Magic?”

Avexis sighed, “Magic doesn’t do everything, Cullen.”

Just then Cole popped up from the ladder. “Here,” he thrust a corkscrew into her hand. “I’m sorry, the glasses are locked up, and I don‘t want the elves to get in trouble for stealing. I can‘t take anymore mint, and the cats are too fat to play. Anders leaves them milk.” He slid down the stairs and disappeared into a cloud of smoke.

“Or maybe it does,” Avexis observed, blinking.

Cullen shivered, “That’s…”

“Helpful!” Avexis grinned at him, and tucked the opener in her pocket. “Come on, Cullen. Let’s get drunk on your roof, and make sure I’m hung over for Josie’s first lessons. It’s fun to get her mad. I‘ll tell you what Sera and I did to her door, if you get me drunk enough,” she wheedled.

Cullen twitched his mouth up and waved her over to the tree. “After you, Inquisitor.”

“Avexis.”

“Ladybird?” He sounded so hopeful, she couldn’t say no.

She huffed, and rolled her eyes, but went to the tree. “It’s better than Inquisitor, anyway.” He boosted her onto the lowest branch, and she scrambled up.

Once on the roof, she handed him the corkscrew. “There. You pull out. We’ll have to drink from the bottle, though, because…”

“Don’t bother explaining, I remember Cole. I can’t forget him, the way other people do. I wish I could - he says the most unnerving things. And… I- I don’t mind sharing, if you don’t.” He had worked the cork halfway out when she started laughing, madly. “What? What’s so funny?”

She bent over and whispered, “You pull out.”

Cullen choked, and spilt a little as the cork released.

“Stop that!” She righted the bottle, horrified. “You’re wasting it!” She took it away from him and cradled it, gently. “Treat the baby nicely, Commander.”

“Just drink it,” he sighed, and set the corkscrew, cork still in place, next to him. He pulled on the gloves, and put on the hat. “They fit,” he breathed, beaming. His hair curled up around the edges of the knitted cap.

“I’m so glad,“ She flashed him a smile, the angles of her face in shadow by the light of the moons. “Do Fereldans say ‘Cheers’, like Blackwall? Or…”

“Slainte,” Cullen supplied.

“A good word,” she agreed and raised the bottle up. “Slainte, then.” She smelled it deeply, eyes closed, and then sipped. “Needs to breathe more,” she handed him the bottle. “But Maker’s Balls, I need this. I‘ve been too good, lately. Josie has nothing to complain about. I need to change that. More pranks with Sera maybe…”

Cullen sipped, and agreed. “It’s… nice.”

Avexis sighed, “Cullen, that’s a bottle of Lydes 8:98 Blessed. Neither of us were born when those grapes were crushed. Have some respect. It’s wonderful.” She took the bottle back and took a huge drink. “Void, Orlais still occupied your country when these grapes… how did Varric say it… gave up the ghost?” She giggled, “Let’s drink to their memory and successful revolutions. That seems appropriate, n‘est-ce pas?” She raised the bottle.

Cullen chuckled, “I’m… not used to anything so fancy. But that… that does seem appropriate.”

“See, being Commander of the Inquisition is good for something!” Avexis handed off the bottle and drew up her knees, and laid her head down on them while watching him drink. “Speaking of successful revolutions… the Winter Palace.”

“Halamshiral.”

She waved her hand, “Whatever. I’m sure it will be full of posh ‘shems’ mocking what they think is my culture while I mock them mocking - but subtly, and with intrigue, while I assemble a new political structure for them overnight. Dorian will help. Probably. Unless they‘re unusually flattering in their attentions. In which case he will abandon us all in favor of being the new favorite at the Orlesian court.” She thought for a moment, “It could happen.”

“I expect it will be miserable,” Cullen admitted. “A Fereldan in the Winter Palace. You won’t be the only one being mocked.” He scowled and drank, letting the liquid sit on his tongue for a moment. “You know, you’re right. This is the best wine I’ve ever had.” He sighed, “I don’t… want to talk about work. Not on my nameday.”

Avexis grinned, “That’s a first.”

“Not really. I’m just not… good at keeping a conversation going. You might have noticed.”

“Perhaps,” she teased. “It’s… what’s the word… cute.”

“Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not teasing.” She leaned closer, “You’re cute,” and took the bottle of wine when his fingers loosened. “Ha! It worked! Pay the Commander a compliment, and he‘s too flustered to keep the bottle for himself.”

“That’s hardly fair,” Cullen quirked up his lips at the corners. “Avexis, have I told you look lovely tonight?” His words were low, and sincere.

Avexis coughed, covered her mouth with her hand, and Cullen slipped the wine from her fingers. “Dirty,” she purred after she regained her breath.

“All’s fair,” Cullen shrugged and sipped.

“Is that the phrase that applies?” Her eyes narrowed, “Is this war, then?”

“There’s another alternative.” He drank again, while she stopped breathing, eyes wide. He smirked, “Careful, Avexis. Last I checked, even elves needed air, no matter how superior a race.”

She smacked his thigh. “Maker, you’re a cruel man.” She leaned closer, to breathe in his ear, “I like that about you.” She tried to steal the bottle and failed, overbalancing as he pulled the bottle away and nearly fell in his lap. “Unfair!” He grinned and then pecked her cheek slow enough for her to pull away if she didn‘t want it, while still retaining the bottle. Afterward, he stayed forward and refused to retreat. Finally, slowly, she sat back on her heels, staring. “May I?” She asked formally.

“Of course, Inquisitor,” he handed off the bottle, and she drank warily, her eyes never leaving him.

“Cullen…” she started, and then shook her head. “Let’s just finish the wine.” But she shifted closer, and leaned into his side, carefully. “I’m… sorry. For what I said during our walk. And what… I did. And for running away. And not… talking to you about it. Cassandra infuriated me when she confessed. I couldn‘t see straight, these last few days. That wasn‘t fair to you.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Cullen could barely breathe, scared to even put his arm around her, given what had happened before. “I’m… not sorry. Except for what I said to you, I mean.” He puffed, “I’m making a mess of this. I mean I’m sorry for insulting your choices. But not about what… happened. And Cassandra meant well.”

“Is it… in the past?” She turned to face him, her cheeks flushed, but still sober. “I don’t want you to hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“I don’t hate you, either.”

“Then it must not be war,” Cullen risked another smile, and this one had an echo on her face. “Right, Ladybird?”

“I guess… not,” she purred, and leaned back against him, more quickly this time. “Imagine that.” She took another drink, and passed the bottle. “What - what is this then?”

Cullen took a sip himself and shrugged, “Whatever you want it to be. I‘m here, either way. I‘ve… I‘ve missed your company. I want that back, no matter what it means.”

Avexis groaned, “Oh sure, make it difficult,” and stole the bottle. “You’re too good at that.”

“This doesn’t have to be hard.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Not really. If it was, I would have said it.” He paused, “But for now, let’s just finish the wine, and tell me why, exactly, Bruce came running into the barracks and upended everyone‘s foot lockers in an attempt to find a ruler, just as I was starting the inspection? Because he looked far too excited for it to be innocent.”

Avexis coughed a laugh, “A simple… need for measuring devices in the tavern.”

“What on Thedas did Cabot need to measure?”

“Um… it was me that needed it, actually.“ Avexis couldn’t restrain a giggle. “Penises. Penii? What’s the plural, here? Common is impossible.”

“Inquisitor!” Cullen tried to look stern, and then dissolved. “Holy Maker. You can’t just tell men - or women - to drop their pants!”

“For the record, Dorian was disappointed that he didn’t get to. Varric had a betting pool going - 4 to one in Fenris’ favor. Bull might have won serious money, depending.” Avexis handed him the bottle, and Cullen drank, eyes closed as if he was praying. “I think that having men drop trou may be a public service. It’s good for morale.” She quirked up an eyebrow, “Especially mine. Care to join the next competition?”

Cullen choked and coughed for a long minute, and somehow failed to answer. “Do you know how upset Josie is going to be?”

Avexis paled. “Merde.” She stole the bottle and took a drink. “Get me drunk, Commander. Fast.”

“How drunk, Inquisitor?”

Avexis squinted, “Ladybird. And drunk enough to be too sick to attend Josie‘s lectures tomorrow.”

“Ladybird,” Cullen’s voice was low. A stray wind whistled through his hair and blew hers back. “I can’t let you do that. Your Commander would never be so irresponsible.”

Avexis held her breath, but managed to ask, “Is it _my_ Commander, then?”

“Do you have to ask?” Avexis worked her mouth wordlessly. Cullen slipped the bottle from her hand and sipped. “Just as well I don’t have to be the Commander tonight, if you‘re speechless.” The wine dribbled a little from the corner of his mouth and he raised his wrist - but it was still covered by a gauntlet, and he hesitated to wipe it away with his new gloves. Avexis raised her thumb and touched the drop, and then sucked her thumb clean. She leaned forward, eyes glowing softly, but Cullen cleared his throat, “Wine?” He held out the bottle.

Avexis nodded, her eyes wide, “Merci.”

They were quiet for a few moments, and then Cullen cleared his throat. “Ladybird, do you believe in second chances?”

She looked at him, quizzically, and then nodded. “I have to.” She rested the bottle on her forehead, over her scar, enjoying the cool smoothness of the bottle. “I wouldn’t be here, otherwise.”

“I see.” He took a breath, “I do, too.” He glanced down at her, and she tilted her head up to meet his eyes. “Can I have one?”

She blinked, “Pourquoi? I mean, why?”

He swallowed, and his voice was low but clear, “I should have kissed you back.”

Her voice was small, “Do you want to now?”

Cullen flushed, “I… I’m… no. We‘re tipsy. I don‘t want… not when we‘ve been…” He chuckled, “If I start now, I might not be able to stop.”

“Would that be so horrible?“ but Avexis sighed, “You can have as many chances as it takes, Cullen.” She nestled into his shoulder, and slowly, he put his arm around her, his hand resting on her hip, and leaned his head down to meet hers. “I don’t know what I’m doing, either. This is… different.”

He chuckled, “We’re a fine pair. Cassandra says…”

Avexis snorted, “Oh please, don’t bring Cassandra into this. I’ll make nice and beg her pardon tomorrow. In fact I’ll go all out, and beg Varric to write her another book, just to keep her out of our business. But…” she laughed, “But maybe I should just find her someone instead.”

Cullen choked, “Who would dare?”

Avexis sighed, “Someone romantic, to sweep her off her feet. You know, the flowers, candles, and poetry sort. Probably not another mage - I don‘t want her to be reminded of Galyan. Though he was more the ‘I‘ll win you over with my idealism, awkwardness, and special healing touches‘ sort.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t understand how anyone could be attracted to a healer.”

Cullen coughed, “You mean Dorian was right about her… preferences? Candles? Flowers? _Poetry_?”

“Maker, yes,” Avexis giggled. “You should hear her, lecturing me about passion being necessary to life, and quoting from some obscure banned book ‘Carpet Um Amatus’ or something. But I’ll think about what to do tomorrow. I don’t want her to ruin your nameday like she did my coming home.”

She felt the brush of his lips against her hair, “This is already the best nameday I’ve ever had. Even Cassandra couldn‘t ruin it.”

Avexis cuddled closer, and handed him the bottle. “Moi, aussi.”

They were quiet for a few more minutes before Cullen asked, “No more running away?”

Avexis laughed, “If I stop, will you quit calling me a bug?”

“Unlikely.”

“No promises.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pourquoi - Why
> 
> Avexis is incorrectly remembering the 'Carmenum di Amatus' anthology of poetry. For those of you who have romanced Cassandra you'll probably remember this book pretty well. It's on the list of 'especially banned books' by the Chantry, along with the 'Alchemist's Encyclopedia', the Qun, and The Randy Dowager. As in real life, all the stuff worth reading has been banned somewhere.
> 
> Moi, aussi - me, too.


	31. Hangovers, Hope, and Standing Orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another funny chapter! Enjoy, and thank Iduna!

“Explain.” Josie was all hard-lines, her normal softer self submerged between a drill sergeant of manners and impeccable breeding. It was an impossible combination so early in the morning - especially this morning.

Avexis had been up late, and then early, looking at stars, drinking wine, laughing at and with Cullen… he had made fun of some of the nobles and recruits he had to deal with daily. When he got drunk enough he started playing with her hair, hopelessly tangling it into a clumsy braid until she took it back and finger combed it neat again. And when she shivered from the cold, he dropped down off of the tree and pulled the blanket from his bed. They cuddled underneath and talked until dawn about… tout le monde. Everything.

It had been - even without a single kiss - the most romantic night of her life. Cassandra would swoon, for sure - assuming the Seeker would still speak to her. Debatable, unless she brought a peace offering.

She made the mental note to talk to Varric, as soon as the Ambassador released her from her clutches. She owed Cassandra an apology gift. And surely it wouldn’t take Varric long to churn out the drivel that made up ‘Swords and Shields‘.

Of course, the recollection of the most swoon-worthy night of her life was countered by the horrid combination of hangover, angry Josie, and inevitable consequences. “Don’t talk so loud,” Avexis winced. “I had to diffuse the situation. Dorian’s nose was bleeding - and Fenris wasn’t going to stop at that. He was one step away from tearing into him. I just… said the first thing that came to mind.”

“And that was… that?!“ Avexis was pretty sure no one was supposed to be that color naturally. “It’s not proper to ask men to pull out their… members… so we can measure them.”

“It was a cock-fight, Josie! So my brain leapt to… cocks.“ Avexis giggled, and then moaned, holding her head. “I didn’t say I was smart. I told you I wasn’t a diplomat. Zut, I fucking hurt.”

“I have several members of noble houses demanding to understand if this is the way the Inquisitor settles disagreements among her allies!” Josie paced along the fireplace in her office. “I do my best, Inquisitor, to settle things amicably, to provide win-win situations for you and those who wish to ally themselves with you. But if you’re down in the tavern every night planning measuring contests for - man-rods…” Josie turned nearly purple.

“Just say penis,” Avexis whispered, “And it was just the once. Softer, please?”

“-and then you went and sat on your Commander’s roof like a common… hooligan! Getting wine-drunk-”

“At least it was expensive wine?” Avexis tried, feebly.

“-while telling dirty jokes, flirting hard enough to make even a Crow swoon, giggling about blankets and splinters in tender places, and all but ruining what little reputation you have built up over months of effort…” Josie stopped pacing, and threw her arms in the air. “I’m working very hard, Avexis, at what is not an easy job. You’ve been doing so well - can’t you hold out just a little longer? After Halamshiral, we’ll have the noble support we need to move the armies through Orlais - clear to the Western Approach, if necessary, as well as an Empress that will support our efforts to defeat Corypheus. But you have to do your part. All I’m asking for is discretion for the next few weeks! Is that too much to ask?”

Avexis shook her head, wincing, “No, Josie. I’ll - I’ll be good after this, I promise.”

“No more roofs?”

Avexis sighed, “No more roofs - at least until after Halamshiral.” She cleared her throat pointedly, “Permission to explain to the Commander why I will be absent for the foreseeable future? I don‘t have to stop seeing him entirely out of the War Room, do I?”

Josie’s mouth quirked sideways, “Granted. But during office hours or meals _only_. No visits after hours, except in emergencies, or public social interactions. Decorum, Inquisitor.”

“Decorum, Ambassador.”

_< EotD>_

Avexis waved good-bye to Varric, and swanned out the side door, dreamily making her way over to Cullen’s office. She even unbent so far as to nod at Solas, who raised a single eyebrow and shook his head as she let herself out of the solarium and onto the bridge.

Mentally, she chastised herself, for taking the time out of his busy day. But it was her busy day, too…

And she wanted to see him.

She opened his office door, smiling. He, predictably enough, was scowling. In her tired state she found it vaguely adorable.

Knight Captain Rylen and two other officers stood by his desk, a huge map unrolled before him. “No, it won’t work,” he said, command pouring from every simple word. She leaned up against the wall to watch. “We need more scouts. Campbell! Tell Leliana that she has to send two more teams to the Western Approach before we dare risk my… er, the Inquisitor in the Far West.”

“She’s sent three teams…”

“Then the scouts she sent aren’t good enough,” the Commander met his officer’s eyes, and stared him down. “There are whole patches of this map missing. What’s with this odd gaseous haze? Why hasn’t anyone investigated the prison - we know it‘s there. Do we have a general idea of numbers of darkspawn? How many red Templars can we expect? Connection of Venatori involvement is still speculative - I want proof, damn it! Number of rifts? Any resources?” He lifted two corner paperweights - one of them the Mabari she had given him, she was delighted to note - and the map rolled itself back up. He swept it up in one hand and handed it to the unlucky Campbell. “Not. Good. Enough. If she doesn’t have enough scouts, tell her to train more. I can give her a dozen names, at least, of likely recruits.”

Avexis shifted slightly, and he finally noticed her. “Inquisitor!” He smiled, nervously. “I didn’t realize you… I beg your pardon.”

“Not at all. Excuse my interruption,” she smiled back, and let her lashes fall. “I was hoping for a moment of your time.”

The mercury of his mood dropped with his eyebrows, his voice concerned, “Is there something you needed?” He turned to his men, eyebrows creased. “Dismissed!”

“But Commander,” the hapless Campbell tried to argue, “we haven’t gone over…”

“I said, dismissed!” Cullen took one step towards him, and the man turned and left, Rylen holding open the door for him. Cullen shook his head, as Rylen pulled the door shut with a firm click. “Now then, Inquisitor…”

Avexis reached out her hand and took his, and for a moment, she could have sworn he stopped breathing. “Is this all right?”

“It’s more than fine,” a small smile lifted a corner of his mouth. “I… hoped you’d stop by. I just didn’t think you would. It seemed… like a dream this morning.” He looked rueful, “Aside from the headache, anyway. That had a different cause at least, from the usual.”

“You did ask about the running away,” she laughed. “Why would I avoid you now? Last night was… fun. I don‘t think I‘ve had that much fun since… ever.”

“Me, either.“ Cullen cleared his throat, “We left things… open-ended, last night,” Cullen’s eyes dropped. “I wasn’t… I don’t want to assume… I mean… but I wanted to ask…”

“…about last night,” Avexis sighed, unwittingly interrupting his fumbling confession, “Josie had her way this morning. No more roofs, I’m afraid. Not until after Halamshiral.” Cullen’s shoulders slumped. “But… I’ve permission to see as much as I like of you during free hours, meals, and, I quote, ‘public social interactions’.” Her Orlesian accent played with Josie’s slight Antivan one in a gentle mockery.

“That doesn’t leave much time,” Cullen muttered. “I miss most meals, or have them here. And I couldn’t give a damn about Josie’s ‘interludes’,” he grumbled. “I’ve better things to do than drink tea and gossip.”

“Oh.” Avexis wilted, and then squared her shoulders, “At least we can see each other during War Meetings.”

Belatedly, Cullen realized she was disappointed, and backtracked, “I’ll… find the time,” he offered weakly.

“No, I… I shouldn’t have bothered you during work hours, Commander,” she pulled her hand away.

“Stop, Ladybird,” he nearly whispered. “You’re doing it again.”

She pressed her lips together, eyes watering, “Do you want to spend time with me?”

“Very much. More than anything.”

She relaxed. “Then it doesn’t matter if you can’t find it.” Her smile widened and she took a shaky breath. “Where is your calendar?”

“Desk. Top left drawer.” She pulled away, and rifled through the book to the current date, and then took his quill and thinking, wrote a single word. She flipped to the next day, and again, made a small note, but in a different place on the page. Again, she turned the page, and made another note.

Cullen lifted an eyebrow, “Ladybird…”

She handed him the book, meek and proper. “There. I’m penciled in for the next three days. Send a raven or a runner if you need to reschedule. I’ll understand. Things happen.”

Cullen turned, and looked, “’Ladybird‘,” he read, laughing, “2 in the afternoon?”

“It’s not the best time for me,” she admitted, twisting her hands a little. “I might have to delay that a half hour, depending on the history lessons. I‘m… not precisely interested in the monarchy of my country. Telling Josie ‘What does it matter, they were all mad,‘ didn‘t win me any points.” Cullen raised an eyebrow at her. “Well, they were. Truly, one is named, ‘Reville the Mad’. My country was founded on a cheating wife and two brothers. I‘m right and you know it!”

Cullen shook his head and chuckled, “’Chess in garden with Inquisitor,’” he read the next page more formally. “10 in the morning. That’s… doable. Something to look forward to.”

“I’ll even let you win,” she announced haughtily. “The armies should have confidence in their Commander’s strategies.”

“Is that the way it works?” Cullen chuckled. “All right, Avexis. We’ll give this a try, since Josie must have her way.” He glanced down at the third entry, “You’ve double-booked me. This is when I’m scheduled to spar with…”

“It’s no accident, Commander,” Avexis purred, strolling around his desk. “Dorian tells me occasionally you end up shirtless in the practice ring.” She blinked innocently. “That’s something I’d like to see.” She paused in front of him, and reached out to touch his chest, but then changed her mind and reached for his hand instead. “Do you mind a spectator? I promise to not distract you.”

Cullen’s shoulders moved a bit with his breath. “Not at all, Ladybird. I’d be happy to see you there.”

“Good!” She slapped his breastplate abruptly, and grinned up at him, seductive pose gone. “I’ll bring my knitting, just in case the fight doesn‘t live up to expectations.” And laughing, she left, readmitting Rylen as she went.

Rylen watched her leave, shaking his head at Cullen. “Commander, are you regularly going to kick us out of your office for a word with the Inquisitor?” Cullen didn’t answer, his eyes fixed on Avexis’ hips. “Commander?” He snapped his fingers in front of his eyes, and Cullen snapped back to the present.

“I’m sorry, I was…”

“I know what you were doing. I hope the kiss was worth the trouble you‘ve caused.” Rylen chuckled. “Come on, let’s finish this overview. Campbell’s probably crying to Leliana about how mean you are. He’s not suited to authority.”

Cullen frowned, “We weren‘t… we were discussing my schedule for the next few days.”

Rylen snorted, “That’s a new one. Need to do that behind closed doors, hmmm?”

Cullen flushed.

“That’s what I thought.” Rylen swatted his shoulder with the scroll in his hand, “I’ve heard every excuse, Commander. Starkhaven is for lovers. I swear, the Circle there was designed for people to find little places to… but that’s besides the point. For the record…” his eyes twinkled, “Skyhold isn’t a Circle. Strictly speaking, you don’t need an excuse to see her.”

“Just free time,” Cullen drawled.

“Don’t ask the impossible, Commander.” Rylen slapped his back, “Free time is a myth. Everyone in the army knows that.”

_< EotD>_

Avexis approached the corner where the bulk of the sparring dummies were located slowly, knowing that Cassandra was dangerous if startled during training. She waited until the woman finished her form before she spoke, “It’s my turn.”

Cassandra glanced at her, “To offer to resign? I forbid it. We need you even more than we need the Commander.”

Avexis blinked, “What? No!” She shook her head, “I’m going to ask about that in a moment, but don’t distract me, Cassandra.” She took a deep breath, “I’m here to apologize. Je suis desolé .” The first breath got her through that, the second braced her. “I’m sorry for yelling at you, when you had my best interests at heart. I’m sorry for…”

“Stop.” Cassandra‘s mouth twitched, “Words are useless. I’m not going to make you… abase yourself when I was in the wrong.” She rolled her head, loosening up after the form. “And… you were right. I may have been caught up in the romance.” She threw her practice sword to the ground. “I have not had much occasion to be party to this sort of situation, and my enthusiasm got the best of me. But I am sorry. I will not interfere again.”

Avexis coughed, “So… are we-?”

“Are we good?” Cassandra smiled. “Yes.”

“Bon.” Avexis took a deep breath, “Now what was that about Cullen resigning? Because I swear, that man… I just saw him, and he didn‘t say a thing!”

Cassandra sighed, “He is being a fool. He was… distraught, and the withdrawal symptoms were severe that day. He went to the healer. I know, because I checked.” She nodded crisply. “Apparently, they have agreed on a treatment for his symptoms. He can do this. I know he can.”

“He actually went?” Avexis glanced back over her shoulder at the distant tower. “I never thought…”

“I told him it was an order,” Cassandra said dryly. “An order from you. I told him you were angry enough at me, without him drawing your ire as well.”

Avexis flushed, “I didn’t want it to sound like that. I was concerned for his health! I didn‘t want to threaten him…”

Cassandra huffed, “Men like the Commander don’t listen unless you tell them bluntly.” She raised an eyebrow, “It worked, did it not? And when I saw him this morning, he was greatly improved.” She made a disgusted noise, “It’s not as if he thinks worse of you. I believe he thinks the Golden City shines out of your posterior. He certainly stares at it enough.”

Avexis hesitated, and then nodded. “I’ll ask him later, I suppose.”

Cassandra froze while stooping for her sword to return it to the racks. “You said you saw him. Does that mean you’re… talking again?”

Avexis grinned, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” And she left the training area laughing, to the sound of Cassandra’s protests for her to come back and explain.

_< EotD>_

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose, and looked down at his desk. So much damned paper. Maybe the best strategy for defeating Corypheus was to load a trebuchet with all the paperwork and launch it at him. Maker knew that it would bury him more completely than the snows at Haven.

“I think I’m starting to go mad,” he said to himself. Bad ideas and talking to himself would normally be a dead giveaway that he’d been at his desk too long, but ever the dedicated soldier… He knew he wouldn’t leave the damned desk until it was all done. “At this rate, I’ll be here until the next age.”

A knock on the door interrupted his musing. “It’s always open! Come in, already!”

The door cracked, and a young elven girl peeked through, eyes wide at what she probably saw as the Commander’s anger. The door opened wider, and he saw a huge tray, filled with food. He blinked, wondering how she managed to carry it up from the kitchens, two floors below. “I… didn’t ask for anything, but… put it on the desk. I’ll take it back myself.”

Another more familiar face peeked around the corner of the door, a sly grin lighting up her features. “I asked for it, and you’ll do no such thing. Tu as faim. You’re hungry.”

“Inquisitor!” His formerly surly face (or so Varric would claim) melted into a large smile. “It’s good to see you. How do you know I’m hungry?”

Avexis glanced at the young girl, still wringing her hands, uncertain what to do, between his grumpy self and the Inquisitor’s being in charge… not for the first time he regretted his reputation of being somewhat unapproachable. He didn’t need to intimidate every kitchen maid in Skyhold. “Thank you so much, Audrey. Tell Cook that I appreciate the extra work.” She fished a coin out of her pouch and pressed it into the girl’s hand. “Here, take this and get your son a toy. Bonny Sims has a few.” She leaned in and stage whispered, “The Commander recommends the carved Mabari.”

Audrey looks at the coin, then up to Avexis. “Thank you, Inquisitor. Maker bless you!” She took her good fortune and ran from the room, wiping at her face.

Cullen refocused on the feast on the tray. Now that he saw the food, he was hungry, loathe as he was to admit it. That was always the way of it, though - his stomach knew not to protest until he was likely to listen.

“That young girl has a son?” He asked, pulling his eyes away from the food with difficulty. “She looks like she’s 12. How is that even possible?”

Avexis pulled up a chair and tucked a napkin neatly in her lap. “I know you’re hungry because I’m hungry, and we last ate at the same time. Tea and biscuits in the War Room… Josie’s ridiculous insistence on using her bone china? I pay attention to things, Commander. It’s why they pay me crap and give me too much to do. I pay attention to detail.” He couldn’t help but smile.

“And to answer your second question… she’s only 2 years younger than me. Than I? Fucking pronouns. Audrey is a war widow. Her son is three, and when they got here, they had nothing. I saw her boy playing with a stick yesterday, so today he gets a toy. Merde, children should have fucking toys. After this, I’m going to talk to Blackwall about it. More toys in Skyhold, damn it!”

Cullen looked at her, amazed at how a woman so busy had time to notice that the children - few as there were - didn’t have toys, or that grown men hadn’t had dinner. How lucky was he that this woman cared about him? He didn’t deserve this, not this chance at redemption, nor the friendship of this amazing person.

“Ummm, Cullen?” She rapped the table, “Are you there?”

His thoughts snapped back from his unworthiness to his companion. “I’m sorry, Ladybird. You were saying?”

“You were lost in your thoughts. I was about to send a search party. Where did you go?”

He looked her in the eye, “Nowhere I really want to go again.” His serious expression softened, “And… thank you. You could have just sent the tray. You don’t have to stay to watch me eat it.”

She leaned in, as if imparting a great secret, “You’re right. But I had this thought. You see, I eat, and you eat, and if we eat together, we get to talk, and even Bruce and Josie, douleur dans la cul that they are, can’t say anything insulting, or complain. Josie said herself I could see you at meals. So here I am, eating and talking Inquisition stuff with my Commander. Ingenious, oui?”

Cullen laughed, “You have the makings of a brilliant strategic mind, Ladybird, I’m impressed.”

Bruce opened the door - because of course he did - and glanced up after a moment, looking back and forth at the two of them, seemingly unable to make sense of what his eyes were telling him. Finally, he marched crisply forward, holding out a piece of parchment. “Urgent message for you, Commander.”

Avexis’ hand shot forward before he could even begin to move. “I’ll take that, Bruce. The Commander is at dinner.”

Cullen watched the panic fill the scout’s eyes as, once more, he looked between them. His thoughts were written across his face - Bruce was the literal sort. _The Inquisitor has the right to see this, of course. But I report to the Commander. I always report to the Commander. Nothing was said about the Inquisitor. “Give this to the Commander,” those were my orders, and now? Maker, what am I supposed to do?_

Avexis pressed her mouth into a thin line, “Are you going to stand there, or are you going to give me the damned message? It’s not that hard, Bruce.”

Bruce’s eyes widened. _She knows my name. Of course she knows my name. She’s the Inquisitor. The Herald of Andraste. She knows everything. Shit, shit, shit._ _SHIT._ Cullen was torn between laughing and feeling sorry for him, but he wasn’t going to countermand the Inquisitor. Chain of command was too important.

“Of course, Inquisitor. As you wish,” With an awkward bow, he handed her the dispatch, and looked at Cullen for approval, and a possible answer.

“Is this a joke, Bruce?” Cullen knew that look, and suppressed a grin.

Confused, Bruce scratched a spot on his thigh. “Not that I’m aware of, Inquisitor. I was told that this is urgent, and requires the Commander’s attention immediately.”

“This isn’t urgent. It’s not even close to urgent. Did you read this, before you brought it in?”

“Yes, Inquisitor. Bears are attacking one of our camps in the Hinterlands. They request orders.”

Cullen’s hand went to his face to hide a smile. Bad or funny - the potential was there for either. For a split second, he considered rescuing Bruce from his own stupidity, then decided against. No, Bruce, the poor bastard, had this coming.

Avexis stood, tossing her napkin onto his crowded desk, and Cullen rescued his ‘urgent’ pile from overturning with the force. She threw her shoulders back. Despite her diminutive posture, even for an elf, she somehow managed to loom over the Scout. “I want to make sure I understand. Bears are attacking our camps - in the Hinterlands - and this is considered an emergency?”

Bruce still had not managed to comprehend the danger he was in. Onward he plowed, “Yes, Inquisitor. I believe that is indeed the situation.”

Cullen watched the scene unfold with the fascination of one watching a massacre. He knew what was going to happen, and he knew that he should do something to stop it, but instead, he was frozen in place as if the Madame de Fer had cast him in ice. Briefly, he wished for a bit of popcorn, but pushed the thought aside as unworthy.

His lady took a deep breath, “Have you ever been to the Hinterlands, Bruce? Have you ever seen a bear, Bruce? The bears in the Hinterlands are stupid, Bruce. They all have a death wish, Bruce. They attack fennecs and nugs, and every other fucking thing that moves, Bruce. They attack Cassandra, for fuck’s sake. They’re BEARS, for fuck’s sake. Attacking shit is what they fucking do, when rifts have driven them insane. So, a bear attacking something in the Hinterlands doesn’t make it an emergency, Bruce, it means it’s a FUCKING THURSDAY!! You don’t send a fucking letter asking what to do, you fucking kill the fucking bears before they manage to kill you. It’s not that fucking difficult, Bruce! No wonder Cullen never gets any sleep! You people can’t even grasp the concept of killing things before they kill you! Are you understanding me, Bruce?”

Bruce frowned, “But… it’s Tuesday, ain’t it, Inquisitor?”

Avexis narrowed her eyes, “Excuse me?” Her hair started to spark, arcing across the ends. “Would you rather have blood mages, then?”

“No, Inquisitor!”

Cullen tried not to laugh as he watched Bruce reduced to staring at Avexis in fear, nodding like a maniac or one of those bobble-headed toys Sera kept leaving all over the Keep, and just managing not to piss himself. Bruce, it seemed, like many of their allies, had thought the Inquisitor was a harmless and slightly batty elf, sweet and peaceful, who talked to animals like some princess in a fairy story… Now he finally saw what Cullen saw.

This woman was really, _really_ scary.

Finally, Cullen took pity on the poor man. “Bruce, send a bird giving the scouts a standing order to kill the bears. Does that meet with your approval, Inquisitor?”

Not taking her eyes off Bruce, she gave a nod.

Cullen decided to take that as his cue to let Bruce off the hook, “That will be all then.”

“Yes, ser, Commander, ser. Thank you, ser.”

Out the door Bruce ran, having trouble making his hands work well enough to operate the handle. As the door clicked, Cullen contemplated whether or not he’d make it to the privy before his bowels let go.

Avexis merely sat down, swept her napkin into her lap with the grace of someone who had been training with Josie for weeks, and took a bite of her waiting stew. “So, where were we, before we were so rudely interrupted?”

Cullen smiled. He was a lucky man.

“We were discussing your aptitude for strategy, Ladybird.” And finally, he let himself laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tout le monde - everything
> 
> Je suis desole - I'm sorry.


	32. Masks, Knitting, and Not Enough Mabari

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We've restructured the way the Winter Palace works, because there's no way Josie would let a non-noble Inquisitor into Orlesian society without a couple dry runs. So... welcome to the 'before' parties.

Josie fussed over Avexis’ gown, tutting. “I don’t know Vivienne, she looks too… intimidating, don’t you think?”

“She needs to be intimidating,” the mage sighed, “She needs to draw every eye at this event. People will talk about her for weeks after this, no matter what happens at the Winter Palace in a few days.” Josie blanched with nerves, and refocused on the woman before her.

Avexis stared at her reflection. A perfectly made-up blonde elf stared back, dressed in a gown that swirled down around her feet in a deep green so dark it was almost black. It peaked at her neck with a wrap of sheer silk framing her décolletage. It was as far from her hand-dyed woolen socks as was possible to get and still remain in Thedas.

Dorian sniffed, “She’s wearing too much eyeliner and lip color.” He reached out with a square of cotton, apparently with the intent to wipe it off. “If you want her to be intimidating, it should be redder anyway. The color of blood, not berries. She has the skin to pull it off, especially with the amount of powder you‘ve used to hide her freckles and sunburn.”

“Ugh,” Cassandra muttered from the corner, arms crossed over her dress armor. “That’s disgusting.”

“Who needs lip stain when you can use the blood of your enemies?” quipped Dorian. “Ask any Reaver - Bull will do. Red‘s his color.”

“You have a point,” Vivienne allowed, and turned to her make-up chest to make a different selection.

“What do you think, Inquisitor?” Josie asked almost timidly.

“I’m allowed to have an opinion?” Avexis countered stiffly.

“Oh, you’re allowed to have an opinion,” Vivienne smiled too sweetly, “Just be aware it might be disregarded.”

“C’est degueulasse. It’s disgusting, like Cassandra said. I’m too pale, like I haven’t been out in the sun in years. I look nearly as green as the dress - is it the foundation? The lip stain is purple, which normally would be fine - but with this dress? And is it really necessary for me to scare everyone in attendance? I might as well just wear a mask.” She frowned at her reflection, “I certainly don’t look like myself.”

“Irrelevant,” Vivienne countered. “And you aren’t entitled to a mask, as you aren’t part of, or serve, a noble family. Do try to educate yourself in your homeland’s eccentricities, my dear. I suppose you’d rather attend in sheepswool socks and clunky boots?”

“I’d rather attend as myself,” Avexis sighed, knowing it was pointless. “Why can’t I wear robes?”

“Not formal enough. You’re not fighting tonight,” Vivienne arched an eyebrow at her. “Nor are you representing the Circle. In point of fact, you‘re above the Circle. Strictly speaking, you shouldn‘t wear them ever again.” She tapped her lips thoughtfully. “Make a note of that, Josie. No Circle robes for the Inquisitor.”

“You froze a man at your own salon. You were wearing robes.”

“That was a business meeting, I’m not the Inquisitor, and the loss was calculated, as was the chance that you would deny me my request,” Vivienne took her shoulders and faced her away from the mirror again, a pot of blood red lip balm in her hand and a fine brush. “Tonight is about pleasure - or as close as you‘re allowed to get to it until after the Winter Palace, anyway. Now, hold still, and let me fix this.”

_< EotD>_

A half hour later, Cullen fussed with his coat, “It’s too tight in the shoulders,” he muttered to Dorian, who had slipped in to check that the Commander was nearly done with primping, only to find the man muttering about his hair in front of the mirror, and complaining about the fit of his jacket to no one at all.

“Nonsense. Just don’t make the mistake of flexing, or half the room will bleed out,” Dorian grabbed his hands away from where he was tugging down on the jacket. “And quit trying to hide your derriere. Avexis will want to see it, trust me. I’ve been telling her stories about the bathhouse.”

“That figures.” Cullen cleared his throat of the lump of longing that the name had conjured, “What kind of stories?”

“Oh, just basic measurements, that sort of thing. She wanted to know the size of your… torch,” Dorian winked. “Do I make you uncomfortable, Commander?” He tried to pat his ass.

“Stop.” Cullen spun away and rolled his shoulders. “That’s harassment. I’ll have you reported.”

“Who am I to resist the lure of command?” Dorian sighed. “Yes, well, as fun as this is, I’m afraid I have to go and make sure Bull is actually wearing a shirt. Duty calls… and don‘t wait for us if we‘re late.”

Cullen glanced at the mirror, ran his fingers through his hair one more time, and then blew out slowly. “Ridiculous,” he told his reflection. “You’re a grown man. Quit acting like an adolescent.” He stood up straight, hand on his hilt, and nodded. “That’s better.” He turned and left the room, to descend the stairs and wait with the others.

A small group had clustered at the entrance of the villa, Cullen one of the last to arrive. He pulled on his gloves, tapping them down so that they fit snugly between his fingers, thinking of soft wool instead of kid, and wishing he dared wear the wrong ones.

Halamshiral could use a few more Mabari.

Avexis appeared at the top of the stairs, and Leliana gasped, “Inquisitor!” She descended slowly, glancing at Cullen worriedly before a mask slipped over her eyes, blocking out her other emotions with a dull look of resignation.

Her velvety dress shimmered in the lamplight, and swirled around her feet. He stared at the shoe peeking out from under her dress - a simple heeled slipper, but one that offset her high arch and slender ankles. His eyes rose, and her flush deepened, so that he could see the change of color under the sheer silk crossing her neck and framing her cleavage. She… she… he cleared his throat and bowed. She nodded, and looked away.

Avexis kept her head bowed as a butler draped a cloak over her shoulders and allowed Dorian to lead her to the coach. She didn‘t look at him again.

Cullen tried not to mind. She looked a different person - nothing like the Ladybird who perched with him on his roof and spoke of simple things while stealing his wine and making dirty jokes, or the woman who brought him dinner and threatened scouts.

He wasn’t sure he knew this side of her.

_< EotD>_

 

It was with great trepidation that Avexis approached the Commander later that evening. He was surrounded by human women in masks, and a few men, but his arms were crossed and he was glaring at all of them equally. “Would you care to dance?”

“No.” His reply was curt, and she blinked away his answer.

“Oh.”

He winced and she tried to listen. “I’m sorry. I’ve been turning down so many people… I’m afraid Templars weren’t much for balls.”

“Ah.” Avexis tried not to fidget. “Neither were mages. As you might figure. Can you imagine a dance in the Circle? There would be magic duels instead of dancing, and someone would grease the floor at just the wrong moment. Nobody‘s even bothered to ask me, not that I want…” She cleared her throat, “It’s all right, of course. I just thought I’d… ask.” She stared at the people around him. “You seem… rather popular, on the other hand.”

“I wish I weren’t,” he grumbled.

She smiled, very slightly, and his eyes softened. “Not enjoying the company?”

“Not at all. Yours is the only company worth having,” he managed, Dorian’s lessons on flirting drifting idly through his brain. The women around them tittered.

Avexis‘ eyelashes fluttered wide, nearly making the copious amounts of eyeliner disappear in her surprise. “Oh!” But her smile widened, and she looked more like herself, without the stiff facial expressions. “Are you sure you won’t dance?”

Cullen flushed. “I don’t want to embarrass you.”

“I promise it wouldn’t be embarrassing. Who could be embarrassed to be seen with you?” Avexis flirted. “Certainly none of these people.” She glanced up through her eyelashes, and suddenly, his Ladybird was there, in the room. His breath hitched. “I would say those who aren’t seen with you are the ones who should be embarrassed.”

“Well, in that case…” Cullen started to offer his arm, “I would hate to cause the Inquisitor any social discomfort.”

“Inquisitor,” Vivienne came out of nowhere with the skill of a born courtier. “I fear we need someone to settle a disagreement for us on the school of necromancy. Would you mind…”

“Dorian is more of an expert than I,” Avexis began, frowning, “I‘m just a beginner.”

“No, it must be you, my dear. Nobody in Orlais cares about a Tevinter necromancer. We want one of our own. Come along,” Vivienne took her arm in a way that made it look like Avexis was coming willingly and began to glide away. Avexis glanced back at Cullen, not bothering to try to school her expression of regret. “You need to beware, darling,” the older mage instructed under her breath. “Watching one man all evening, people will talk.”

“People are already talking,” Avexis sighed. “Vivienne, there’s no argument, is there?”

“Of course not. No one here knows anything about magic. But your Commander is prime bait at events like this. He’ll draw in more supporters if he is known to be unattached.”

“He is unattached.” Avexis tried to glance back again. Cullen was listening, could hear every word, she was sure of it. “Much to my sorrow…” and relief, she left unsaid.

“Eyes forward,” Vivienne hissed. “Really, my dear, I didn’t think you would struggle so with this. Will you hurt his chances deliberately?”

Avexis tried to free her arm, to no avail. “What chances?”

“The Commander is a young, handsome, eligible man. He could meet a woman far above his station at an event such as this.”

Avexis stammered, “The Commander isn’t interested in marrying up.”

“Are you sure about that?” Vivienne sounded amused. “He’s been alone - and in the Circle - all of his adult life. Surely a few creature comforts - the sort a wife with money and a title could provide - would be more than welcome.” Vivienne released her arm gracefully, “There, safely away from temptation, dearest. Think about what I have said.”

Avexis stared after her, trying not to think at all. It was a losing proposition, but… “Vivienne, isn’t Inquisitor a title?”

She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw the Enchanter’s shoulders twitch.

_< EotD>_

Cullen slammed back into his room at the villa, like a force of nature. “She did it on purpose,” he told Dorian, stripping out of his dress uniform coat. Dorian watched, with too much interest. “Close your eyes,” he warned him as he started to unbutton his shirt. “She’s done all of it on purpose.”

“Such modesty,“ Dorian sighed and turned his back. “Of course she did. You have met Vivienne, haven’t you? Do you honestly think she wouldn’t have married her Duke if she had the choice? Oh, sure she was swept off her feet, like the maidservant in the fairy tale, but he was also a member of the Council of Heralds. He opened doors for her. She wanted all of her doors opened. All she sees is the other doors other people could be opening - she doesn’t care whether or not they actually want to walk through them. And Avexis complicates matters. She knows that if Avexis walks through the doors being the Inquisitor has opened for her, she has more competition at the head of the Circle. She thinks like a magister.” He strolled to the window, “Mind you, our loveliest girl hasn’t even realized that there is a door yet, much less tested the lock. Give her time. So… are you interested in marriage?”

“Not with anyone I met tonight,” he cursed, fumbling out of the dress shirt. “Vapid, uninteresting females who never have had a serious thought in their lives. Have you met the De Launcets? I had no less than four surrounding me.”

“Unfortuately, yes,” Dorian sniggered. “Sera stole a corset string from one targeting me. Her word was ‘floppity’. Poor thing wouldn’t take a hint, even when I made a point of flirting with the waiter bringing us champagne. I owe Sera a massive favor.” Cullen sighed. “Look, Cullen, Avexis had a miserable time. Tomorrow night, she’ll be free of Vivienne’s wiles - Sera’s going to see to it. And don’t ask,” warned the mage, “you don’t want to know.”

Cullen stepped into his pants, belatedly realizing that Dorian was watching him in the reflection of the window. He snarled at him. “I’m going to go find a place to blow off some steam.”

“I’ll come with you,” Dorian offered. “At least until you find Cassandra to spar with. And then I’ll visit Avexis, and talk her off the ledge.” He turned and patted Cullen’s now clothed arm gently. “You aren’t the only one pissed off tonight. Cassandra will need to funnel off some aggression as well. Someone had the balls to ask why she hadn‘t married years ago. They‘re lucky to be alive.”

< _EotD_ >

“Well, that was a disaster!” Dorian slipped into Avexis’ room, and watched her at the window, staring down at the courtyard where Cullen was spinning into Cassandra with a shield, and trying to kick her feet out from under her, and Cassandra snarling back at him, swinging until his shield dented. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such low approval for a guest of honor.”

A quiet sob came from her and he swallowed. “Fasta vass. I’m sorry, bella donna. I didn’t mean it. It wasn’t you, they’re all just… horrible people. C’est Orlais, n‘est-ce pas? You‘re the best of all of them.”

“He wouldn’t dance with me,” she sniffled.

“Vivienne didn’t let him. It was hardly his choice, bella donna.”

“I can’t ask him again! If he turns me down, it’ll look bad for the Inquisition,” she wept. “I thought, at least, even if I was miserable, we could at least dance once. Once, while I was trying to behave myself and act like I belonged in the room. That would be decorous, the Inquisitor dancing with her Commander. But he said ‘No’. Just like that. I thought, I thought… I thought he…” Her voice was small. “He wouldn’t even look at me before. I must look horrid.” She rather did at the moment, as she wiped the copious amounts of kohl away from her eyes and it smeared into the foundation.

“He does like you. A great deal,” Dorian’s voice had lost its sharp edges. “He’s told me so.”

“Then why doesn’t he tell me?” Avexis slammed her hand into the glass, and it ran slightly in its pane, bubbling and warping at the heat projected from her body. “Oops.”

Dorian laughed and crossed the room to take her hand. “He’s out there, beating Cassandra into a pulp in an attempt to not murder your former First Enchanter. He‘d have reason. And we all have our orders from Josie.” He hugged her gently from behind. Cullen glanced up towards the window, and Avexis rested her hand on the window sill instead, pressing her forehead scar to the glass as if she could Fade Step through it if she thought hard enough. “I think there’s something in the Chant of Light about women like Vivienne. It goes something like, “Thou shalt not bother with the opinions of an irrelevant bitch.’ Canticle of Common Sense, verse four. An overlooked book, I‘m afraid, but full of wisdom.”

Avexis choked between laughter and tears. “Oh, Dorian, what would I do without you?”

“Break windows, I suspect,” the other mage mused. “No great loss. These are horrible quality. Probably from Serault during the troubles there…” Avexis elbowed him. “That’s better. Now, tomorrow will be different, my dear, if I have to use blood magic to do it.”

Avexis shivered, “Don’t joke about such things.”

“Will if I want to. Now, let’s get you out of that horrid gown and wash your face. You look like something I brought back from the dead.”

< _EotD_ >

“I am… indisposed, you‘ll have to attend the fê te without me,” Dorian mocked Vivienne to Josie impeccably the next night. “Sera did wonders. I could kiss the little minx.”

“Ew, don’t,” the girl slipped out from underneath the carriage. “No funny business underneath, Ruffles.” She made a face, “Glad I don’t have to go tonight. I’m going to go find some real fun.”

“Just tell me Avexis is going to be happier,” Dorian ignored the elf, who made a face in his general direction before throwing a flask of smoke into the ground and disappearing entirely. “You must have seen how miserable she was… you should have seen how her makeup ran last night…” he shuddered at the memory.

“Of course I did,” Josie wrung her hands and then immediately straightened her gloves. “She looks very nice, at least. Regal, not… frightening. I shouldn’t have listened to Vivienne’s opinion. It made sense at the time, but surely there is room to be oneself even when…”

Avexis came down the stairs, dressed in gold and white pleats, glancing upward, alarm flashing in her eyes as she wobbled on a step, grasping the banister in alarm. “Josie, these shoes… the heels are impossible. I’m going to fall down the stairs and kill myself. Mages don‘t wear heels!”

“That’s an utter falsehood,” Dorian contradicted, showing off his own four inches below shapely calves. “It’s time you learned.” He smiled at her, smug and satisfied. “You cleaned up nice, tonight.” Avexis snarled. “Careful, your face will freeze that way.”

“Leliana chose them,” Josie beamed and clapped her hands. “Oh, Inquisitor, you look lovely!”

A gold cord criss-crossed under and between her breasts, the corset built into the garment itself, and her hair was bound up in a golden wreathed filigree. “It’s a bit… elven looking.” She glanced between her friends, alarmed. “You aren’t trying to make me out as Dalish, are you? Or remind people who I was when I was ten?”

“Not at all,” Josie denied with a flush. “It’s just a gown, Inquisitor. You look lovely in white and gold.”

Cullen appeared at the top of the stairs, “I’m sorry I’m late, I…” Avexis reached the bottom of the stairs and turned to face him, her face lighting up a bit. “I… I… had some trouble with finding my gloves,” he stammered, staring blankly, his cheeks pinking.

“Now, it’s just dinner, tonight,” Josie advised. “So… no dancing and just simple conversation. Is that clear? No politics, or religion. Stick to light topics and idle gossip. And above all -” her gaze swung between Cullen and Avexis, “practice discretion.”

Cullen’s shoulders slumped, but he managed to take possession of Avexis’ golden cloak and rest it on her shoulders. “Quite.”

_< EotD>_

The sniggers of the Orlesian nobility grated Cullen’s nerves raw. “You… knit? How quaint,” a woman drawled to the Inquisitor. He hadn’t left her side, but hadn’t said more than a few words. Small talk was a waste of time, and most of these people had no interest in him, too occupied in not-so-gently mocking the woman at his side. At least she was at his side… someone in charge of seating had decided it was better to link the lone Fereldan Commander to the Elven Inquisitor rather than risk offense to one of the other so-called ‘gentlemen‘ present by making their dinner partner an elf.

Someone had a degree of sense in this Blighted country. But left to itself, his mind drifted to his roof, and the rock at Haven, and laughing over silly puns… she hadn’t come out last night to join him in the courtyard, even though he saw her light shining from the second floor, and her silouette outlined against the window frame.

Cassandra had taken advantage of his distraction to knock him down, and he was sporting a bruise the size of his dinner plate on his left buttcheek. He shifted in the chair - it was designed to look opulent, rather than for comfort. Cassandra caught his eye, and smirked, well aware of why he was squirming.

Oh well, she had her own bruises. He had made sure of that. Of course, the Seeker didn’t squirm. Ever.

His focus dragged back to the present when Avexis touched his arm, “Are you well, Commander? Madame de Fer was ill today - are you coming down with something?”

“I could use some fresh air,” Cullen admitted, but forced a smile. “The perfumes are so strong in Orlais. I‘m afraid my untrained Fereldan nose can‘t handle them for long.”

“I would join you,” Avexis made as if to rise from her chair, but Josie set a hand upon her other arm, “But I’m afraid…” she struggled to come up with an acceptable excuse.

“I was hoping that you would explain to our hosts about the magic we’ve discovered inlaid in the walls of Skyhold,” Josie gushed, “such an ancient castle, I’m sure they’d be interested.” The table looked bored.

Cullen nodded curtly and excused himself. “Then I will return shortly. Pray, excuse me.”

Dorian kicked Josie under the table and she looked at him sternly. Dorian rolled his eyes in Cullen’s direction, but Avexis shook her head at her friend in silent request. Dorian sighed, and turned to the woman at his right. “So, tell me, Countess, who made your earrings? Are they garnets or rubies?”

The Countess tittered, “Rubies, of course! Better bloodstone than garnets - so gauche!”

“Truly?” Dorian sipped his wine thoughtfully, “Garnets were huge in Minrathrous this season. My dear friend Magister Tilani ordered her magisterial robes absolutely studded with them. But then, that dark red is her color. Jewel tones don‘t suit everyone, after all. You‘re probably wise to choose the lighter shade. They fade better into the background. Less of a statement. Not all of us are meant to be noticed.” Dorian patted the woman’s hand in sympathy.

“Did she…” the woman stammered. “I had no…”

“Yes, well - different climes,” Dorian waved the consideration away. “Minrathous society runs far higher than Halamshiral, after all. Ambassador Montilyet tells me you are distantly related to a family in Vyrantium?”

The woman paled, and the rubies stood out stark against her ears. “Yes. A distant branch but…”

“Then we’re practically family!” Dorian beamed. “My House hails from Qarinus, but my mother’s family is from…”

“I’ve never been to Tevinter…” his dinner partner attempted to simper, but whimpered instead.

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Dorian sighed. “The food… that would interest you, my dear, I’m sure. Our cheese course alone would satisfy even your appetite.”

Josie sipped her wine in defeat as Avexis choked back her instinct to laugh. In Halamshiral there was no room for laughter.

< _EotD_ >

“How, exactly, was that any better?” Cullen asked Dorian hours later, stripping out of his dress coat again, though this time he hung it carefully on the valet provided.

“Well, you’re not rushing out to beat Cassandra into the dust of the courtyard, so I’m claiming a victory,” Dorian slumped in an armchair. “It was an impossibly dull evening. I was reduced to sniping at old biddies too jealous of our lovely lady to see straight. I sympathize with Sera. I wish I could just… go pub-crawling or something. Somewhere in Halamshiral there must be a real party. I bet Bull would come with me…”

“Josie was certainly in her element,” Cullen criticized. “If one more woman asks me if I’m married, however, I’m going to tell them I’m taken.”

Dorian sniggered, “I dare you.”

“Don’t,” Cullen grinned, and shrugged into his shirt, tucking the hem into his belt. “Or I will, and Josie will have me drawn and quartered by dawn. At least tomorrow is the actual ball, and not just all these… practice rounds.” He tied the laces at his throat loosely. “I’m sick of being bait.”

“The Commander needs a war,” Dorian agreed. “You aren’t suited for this sort of thing. It’s funny we haven’t met a single Orlesian with the same inclinations. They can’t all be mincing toffs and women with more money than sense. This country spawned our Ladybird, and no one can claim she isn‘t both fierce and practical. Perhaps we’ll be luckier tomorrow. Find you some real conversationalists to help you pass the time between moving soldiers around the palace.”

“The only person I want to talk with is…”

“Yes, we are all aware,” Dorian drawled. “Believe me the feeling is mutual.” He rose and strolled to the door. “You know, she’s going to be in the garden tonight, since she doesn‘t have to spend four hours in beauty treatments. If you two can manage to be quiet, then perhaps… Vivienne‘s room is on the other side of the house.”

Cullen’s face lit up. “Thank you, Dorian.”

“Thank me tomorrow, when our loveliest girl props up a falling Empire,” Dorian quipped. “I’m just making sure she stays sane enough to do it.”

_< EotD>_

“Avexis,” Cullen hissed from the shadows. The woman herself was sitting on a garden bench in her usual simple Skyhold clothes, counting stitches under her breath. “Ladybird?”

Her head snapped up and around, and her face was lit up by the moon. “Cullen! You came! I thought you wouldn’t dare. Josie warned us…” her voice trailed off. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Dorian told me you would be, and I couldn’t stay away,” Cullen admitted, sitting the other way on the bench, a little too close than Cassandra‘s rules would prefer - even if they didn‘t necessarily apply any longer. He had several bruises of Cassandra‘s making still appearing - he didn‘t need more. “I felt like pushing a few lines of decent behavior tonight. I can‘t behave all the time.”

“You couldn’t? You did?” She smiled a little wider and slid a little closer yet. Her thigh pressed against his, warm and solid. “I feel exactly the same way.”

“I’ve missed… talking. I’m glad you’re sleeping better, but…”

“I’m not sleeping better. I’ve missed you,” Avexis emphasized the last word, “Cullen, I…” a raven flew overhead, blocking out the moon to try to land in a fruit tree, and her eyes narrowed. The thing came to a halt, back-winging abruptly and then turned and flew, a little unevenly, back in the other direction. “Damn gossiping birds,” she muttered. “I despise each and every single one of you, except for Baron Plucky. Go away and leave us alone.”

Cullen laughed, “I didn’t know you could do that. And you‘re fond of the Baron? I like the one with the white feather… Leliana gave her to me for my name day.” His eyes narrowed, “Did you tell her about my nameday??”

“I didn’t tell a soul. Josie knew, though. And she had to get her information from somewhere.” Avexis shifted away from him. “I’m sorry about the bird. I don’t order them around, usually. Not for petty reasons. I just…”

“It’s amazing,” he whispered. “Varric told me a few things you did in the Hinterlands, but that was…” he shook his head.

“You’re not scared?”

“Not in the least,” Cullen took a breath and touched the back of her hand. They had held hands before, he justified. Avexis slid her fingers over his palm. “You don’t scare me, Ladybird. Whatever I fear about magic, I don‘t see that in you.”

“Cullen, I…” Avexis leaned closer and closed her eyes. “I need to tell you…”

“You can tell me anything,” he promised.

Scattered giggles came from the underbrush, and then a yelp as Avexis‘ eyes narrowed again. “Damn it, Quizzy, you don’t have to sic hedgehogs on me! I was just…”

“I know what you were ‘just’,” Avexis let go of his hand and stood up, sparks flying from her hair and fingertips. Cullen sighed, and shifted backward. “Do you have only twelve years of age, Sera?”

“Just having a little fun,” muttered the other woman, sliding out. Two hedgehogs dove at her ankles, nipping at the bare skin showing beneath her plaidweave leggings. “Ow! No fair!”

“Go away!” Avexis ordered. “Eavesdropping, nosy, interfering… elf!” She sent a sizzling bolt into the ground in front of Sera.

The girl backed away, “All right, I’ll go,” she mumbled, wide-eyed. “You won’t hurt me, though?”

“Don’t test me,” Avexis threatened, sinking back on the bench. Sera disappeared into the house, and Avexis hid her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No,” she sniffed, and then dropped her hands. “I almost lost control. I almost hurt her.”

“Didn’t happen,” Cullen advised, raising his hand to tuck a wisp of hair behind her ear, but hesitating to touch her, before clenching his jaw and doing it anyway. He could take a few more bruises from Cassandra before she started trying to break his bones. “We all lose control of our temper. I gave Cassandra several bruises the night before last, and she did worse to me. Better I bruise her than Vivienne. Perhaps.” He raised a single eyebrow, “I’d offer to show you the marks, but... Josie wouldn‘t approve.”

Avexis giggled, recovering, “I’m surprised you could touch her. She’s…”

“She’s the best warrior I’ve ever known,” Cullen admitted. “I wish I had known about the Seekers when I was a kid. I might have joined them, if they would‘ve let me.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Avexis said lowly, raising her eyes to meet his.

“So am I. Despite everything,” Cullen swallowed. “Avexis… you were saying something.”

“Dance with me tomorrow,” Avexis blurted out. “Please.”

“You might be a little busy. Remember, the assassination attempt?”

“I’ll make time. I can’t ask you - you’ve turned me down publicly, and Josie says that repetitive ill behaviors reflect badly for court approval. They’ll kick me out, if I don’t mind myself. It’ll be bad enough, being who I am. I didn’t do myself any favors this week. But please. I want to dance with you, Cullen.” She grabbed his sleeve tightly. “Just you. Promise me.”

“I’ll try,” he smiled and gave in to the desire to tuck the stray hair in. “You should get some sleep. Big night tomorrow. Sleep in. You‘ll need it.”

“So should you.” Avexis took a deep breath, “Fais de beaux rêves, Cullen.”

“And that means?”

“It means ‘have good dreams‘, in Common.” Avexis clutched his sleeve a little tighter. “Please, have them?”

“The equivalent of ‘sweet dreams’?” Cullen smiled, “Only if they’re of you.” He kissed her hand and left her blinking in the moonlight.

_< EotD>_

Avexis opened Dorian’s door without knocking and shut it, careless of the echoing slam. “Dorian!”

“Hmm? What?” The mage sat up, face mask on and hair mussed. “Bull? Is that you?”

Avexis looked at him in disbelief. “How deep do you sleep? Pull off the mask, Dorian.” She sat down on the bed and bounced a little. “I need to talk.”

“Apparently I spoke too soon, when I told Cullen you didn’t find me in the middle of the night. I should have never encouraged you to befriend me,” Dorian announced, yawning and turning over in his bed so that his bare muscled back was exposed to his dear friend. “Tired. Come back in the morning, princess. The late morning.”

“No.” Avexis pinched his back, and Dorian cursed her in Tevene, waving his hand behind him as if to slap her away, but never coming in contact. “He promised me a dance, Dorian! And he told me that he would only have sweet dreams if they were of me!” Avexis bounced again. “Dorian! Wake up and squeal with me.”

“Eeee,” he mumbled into his pillow. “Good enough?”

“NO!” She laughed, “I think he does care for me. He kissed my hand.”

“Well, that filius canis*.” Dorian pulled the mask off his head. “He finally did something. Even Josie can’t complain that‘s inappropriate.”

“Yes, he did!” Avexis paused, “Filius canis? Son of a… dog?”

“Bitch, yes.” Dorian beamed, “We‘ll have you cursing in Tevene yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the translations are in the text itself, but if you missed them there:  
> C’est degueulasse - It’s disgusting  
> C'est Orlais, n'est-ce pas - It's Orlais, isn't it.  
> Fais de beaux rêves - Sweet dreams  
> Filius canis - son of a bitch (it amuses me to think of Dorian calling Cullen this affectionately)


	33. Braids, Table-Dances, and Better Partners

The next night was far more business-like, with orders, crisp and curtailed, issued between Inquisition members instead of beauty treatments. The only expected primping was Dorian’s, who had demanded that he not be disturbed for six hours before they were due to leave so that he could attempt to make something of the uniform they were all being forced to wear. Apparently, Altus Pavus had better rags than the uniform Leliana and Josie had designed so carefully.

Avexis straightened her own uniform’s sash in front of the mirror, feeling more at home in her own skin than she had in weeks.

They weren’t supposed to leave for half an hour, and she was overly tempted to go find Cullen and visit with him until they had to go.

And then she saw her hair. It was pulled back, business-like, braided in the complex way Scout Harding had popularized for many of the women in the Inquisition who were reluctant to part with their longer tresses in favor of practicality.

It was boring.

In a flash, she was at Sera’s door, pounding on it until the girl opened up. Avexis blinked dully at the various array of flasks the girl was attempting to hide under her uniform and beneath her belt before she skipped to the point. “Sera… do you know how to braid hair? I daren‘t ask Cassandra - she‘s in a mood.”

Sera squinted at her. “I haven’t forgotten the friggin’ hedgehogs.”

“I’ll never send animals after you again.”

“Even if I’m caught watching you and Cully-Wully smooching?” Sera’s kissy noises made Avexis giggle.

“Even then. But he might have actually kissed me, if you hadn’t laughed.”

“Nah, too uptight. Needs a woman over him, you ask me.” Sera waggled her eyebrows. “One giving him orders. Telling him what to do… you know… positions?” She hinted, and then sighed when Avexis stared at her with desperation. “I don’t wanna watch you kiss. That’s just - ew. I was there for the Jennies, supposed to be keeping an eye on you when you wander off alone. Not supposed to let you go belly-up, am I? What‘s the point of all this picking a butt for the throne if we‘re just going to end up glowy red or green when the sky falls down?”

“I see your point,” Avexis said after a moment. “I’m sorry about the hedgehogs.”

“Eh, don’t be. They didn’t break the skin. One of ‘em ended up in a prissy noble‘s bedroom. The screams gave me life.” Sera pressed her down into her lone chair - already scuffed after only a few days of Sera’s residence. “Now, what you want me to do ‘bout this?”

“I want… I want it to look pretty?” Avexis offered feebly. “I’d rather not cut it. I haven’t cut it since Galyan died. It needs to stay out of my face, in case there’s fighting. But I just…” she fiddled with her jacket button. “I don’t get to wear a pretty dress tonight, and Cullen said he’d dance with me. I want something to make me feel like a girl instead of the Inquisitor.”

Sera’s eyes lit up. “I’ve been wanting to play with your hair since Haven. I got this. Don’t move.”

 

_< EotD>_

 

“They’re late,” Josie fretted.

“Relax, Josie,” Leliana patted her arm. “She’ll be down. Fashionably late is better than early, in any case.”

“Do you think she’s sick?” Cullen asked quietly. “Vivienne still isn’t well…” Avexis appeared at the top of the stairs, her hair elaborately woven in and out like a ladder behind her head to one side, and then down to curl at the side of her neck in a thick braid made of yet smaller braids. “Maker’s Breath,” Cullen swore softly, and stepped forward to grasp her hand. “You look… lovely,” he finished, under his breath. Avexis flushed.

Josie nodded, into her own hands, hiding a pleased smile. “Yes, you’ll do quite nicely.”

Sera sat on the banister and rode down, nearly knocking them all over, “Come on, do we have a party to crash or what?” She grumbled away her flush at the compliments her work had earned.

“I have one word for all of you,” Josie announced clearly, before grabbing her cloak, and pulling it around her shoulders. “Discretion. Especially you, Sera.” But she was looking at Cullen when she said it.

He hardly noticed, enveloping the Inquisitor in her tailored cloak and leading her outside, his own shoulders squared proudly.

 

_< EotD>_

 

Avexis fiddled with the key in her pocket, a key that had led her and her companions to a murder scene, clenching the bit of metal against her palm until she was sure it would leave marks. The woman that had given it to her was a mystery, but… Avexis was inclined, despite Leliana’s warnings, to trust her. The woman was the only human there other than her companions to recognize the loss of servants. Everyone else was just…

“They’re all looking at me like they expect me to dance on the tables,” Avexis muttered to Dorian. “You should have heard what they’ve been saying about the elves. They know I can hear them. ’Where are the elves?’ ‘Just like the elves, shirking their duty.’ ‘Yoo-hoo, Rabbit!‘ Those elves are dying in the gardens and guest rooms at the hand of Venatori and the people they serve, and these… connards are worried about their glasses not getting refilled. It would serve them right if I did dance on the tables. Why should our people die for them?”

Dorian‘s eyebrows went up, and he spoke quickly to diffuse her anger. “I dare you to do it. Just what this party needs, table dancing. You might start a trend.”

Avexis snorted softly, surveying the room, full of people trying to act like they weren‘t looking at her. “Tempting. But I can’t risk it. You should have heard the whispers after I spoke twice to the same guards while trying to figure out exactly why the Royal Wing is closed off. I think it might be a dormant rift. My hand keeps sparking when I get close. Apparently I‘m supposed to pretend the guards and servants are furniture, not people.”

“Do come and get me, if you have to fight something. Not a single person has hit on me yet.“ Dorian yawned, “Your Commander, on the other hand, is surrounded. Orlais must prefer blonds.” They both peered over to look at the Commander, describing his defense of Haven, complete with hand motions and sound effects. He caught Avexis’ eye and flushed, but continued, after nodding in her direction. “Were you responsible for the friendly guardsmen coming to speak to him? Because he looks far more entertained now. I’m fairly certain I heard one of them comparing the size of each other’s trebuchets. It’s a threesome made in heaven, I’d say. You might have lost your chance forever, now that he‘s met his chevalier soulmates. Want to eavesdrop on their passion with me later? There will probably be…” Dorian lowered his voice to seductive levels, “…calibrating.”

Avexis swatted his arm. “Stop it. He’s…”

“Yours. I said that, didn’t I?” Dorian paused, “He didn’t claim his dance yet?”

“No,” her face fell. “I’ve been too busy to linger. He’ll… we’ll have to wait until it’s all over.” She placed her still full glass down on a small table. “Can you do me a favor?“

“You have but to speak.“

Avexis pressed three small halla into his hands. “Take these, and go to the courtyard. Use them to get into the sealed door, would you? And then, please, leave them there! The halla can’t leave Halamshiral… it’s important.“

Dorian raised an eyebrow, “That sounds…“

“I know how crazy it sounds, but… Orlais has its superstitions, just like everywhere else.“ Avexis flushed. “I’d go myself, but I have to go investigate the library some more - I had to get back to the ballroom before anyone noticed my absence. I think Cole’s hiding up there, scared to come out. Maker knows there’s barely a compassionate soul in this place. It’s all secrets and lies. So… au revoir.” She turned back, “If you talk to Cullen, mention that I haven’t forgotten his promise, will you? I don’t want him to think I’m blowing him off.”

“I’ll go immediately,” Dorian vowed, hand over his heart. “I want to drop a few hints to that Count with the luscious backside. He‘s grabbed Cullen twice. A man of impeccable taste, obviously. I must draw attention to my own. Do you think my left or right cheek is the better angle?”

Avexis shook her head, laughing at him, feeling better, despite all the death and horror, “Definitely the right. But Bull’s out by the courtyard, Dorian. Aren’t you worried about him seeing you flirting with other men?”

“He doesn’t care in the least, my dear,” Dorian smirked. “He’s probably doing it himself. Have you seen all these redheads? He‘s probably drooling over the servants - less makeup.”

 

_< EotD>_

 

Avexis made her way out to where Briala lingered, her hands fiddling with the elven locket in her pocket, but thinking about Morrigan instead, and the woman’s strange hints.

She had never met another mage like her. Mages did tend to be… individuals, but Morrigan was more than Leliana had hinted at, and far more than just a magical court jester, as well. She was powerful, intense… and somehow, it all felt familiar.

Her magic felt like hers - and she shivered despite herself. That was a difficult thing to admit.

Briala watched her warily, and Avexis didn’t say a word, just pulled the locket and showed her. “She kept it,” the Ambassador whispered, lifting her eyes. “Why? Celene…” her words trailed off. “Elle est si sotte.” But her fingers traced the delicate metal lovingly.

“I hoped you could tell me.”

“I had not expected her to be so… sentimental.”

“There’s another thing…” Avexis hesitated, but pressed on, “Did you know the Empress was going to burn Halamshiral’s alienage?”

“No,” hissed the woman, and all but threw the locket back at her. “I thought… I thought Celene was different, that she cared for… She was progressive, wanted peace. Instead, she betrayed me, and then I betrayed her. That‘s always the case, when an elf gets involved with a human. You should remember that, Inquisitor. Trust is hard to come by and easy to lose. Something to think about. You can never meet as equals.” She sighed, but stiffened. “Are you going to… confront her, with this?”

Avexis nodded. “I am.”

“Good.” Briala looked out over the balcony’s edge, “I would be interested in how she tries to justify herself.”

 

_< EotD>_

 

Cullen strolled toward the edge of the balcony, and stared down at his Ladybird… at the Inquisitor like the rest of the ballroom, gliding around like a swan on the lake back in Honnleath. “Where did she learn this?” Leliana hissed at him.

Cullen shook his head, “I have no idea. But she is…” he watched her guide the Duchess de Chalons through elaborate steps. He laughed aloud. “We don’t even need a distraction to get the soldiers in place. How am I supposed to dance with her after this?”

“With an air of victory?” Dorian suggested, tapping his chin with his gloved fingers. “She’s doing quite well, considering I never taught her to lead. We‘ll have to work on that next time. Bound to be at least a few skeletons in the Western Approach. Fewer opportunities to put it into practice away from Skyhold, though. Pity, that. She‘s a natural.”

“You taught her?” Leliana cracked a smile for the altus. “Well done. If you knew how much Josie had been fretting, you would be gloating.”

“I am gloating,” Dorian stated smugly. “This is me in full gloat. She’s the most beautiful woman in the room, without a corset, or a mask, or any of the things these - charming - people think are so necessary. Look at all of them, hating her, and knowing they can’t afford to. Knowing that they can’t call her rabbit, or knife-ear, or worse. With one dance, she established herself as their social superior.” He tipped his head sideways and surveyed the room. “I give it three years before her popularity runs dry, and she has to worry about being a target. Until then, she’s the new Hero of Orlais. I‘m going to go find Cassandra and break the horrible news. I‘ll console her with wine, don‘t worry. Maybe we‘ll get drunk in the out of bounds library, or Celene’s private office, and cause a scandal.” He patted Leliana’s shoulder. “Tell your Ambassador to make the most of both situations, will you?”

With a final flourish, Avexis finished her dance, bowed regally to her partner, and glowing, met them all at the top of the stairs. “I have to get into the Royal Wing,” she panted, trying to catch her breath. “Florianne is the assassin, I’m sure of it. I have to intercept a trap, but the Empress is all but saved. Briala is with us, Leliana - tell the scouts the servants and elves are on our side. I‘ve enough information to attempt a reconciliation.” Her eyes flashed, “Briala was foolish, Celene was weak and too easily swayed. But… for better and worse, they love each other. They just need proof of it, on both sides.” Her eyes drifted to Cullen idly before snapping away. “I should go.”

Cullen swallowed, “I’ll get our people into position. Inquisitor,” he caught her arm as she passed. “Be careful?”

Avexis smiled at him and, reluctantly, pulled away. “I’ll be careful, as long as you don’t forget your promise. I‘m not dying until after you dance with me.” She leaned close enough for him to feel her breath in his ear. “Besides, I‘ve yet to hear you cuss. Sera claims you‘re not very good at it.” She winked as she pulled away. “I look forward to making up my own mind.”

Cullen ignored Leliana’s giggles and retreated to find his men.

With his shoulders straight, posture upright, and the woman of the hour at his back - he rather felt like a man who had something to fight for.

 

_< EotD>_

 

Cullen could only watch as Florianne de Chalons fought with Avexis in the courtyard, the mage struggling to overcome her harlequin fighters, even with her friends at her side, the two of them locked in a bloodier dance than the one they had shared earlier.

Oddly, it was just as graceful, at least on his Ladybird‘s… the Inquisitor’s side. Avexis’ casting had reached a level of beauty that he had never seen before, as the sparks from her magic lit up the air like a fireworks display. Florianne disappeared, and reappeared on the fountain, and Avexis took advantage of the pouring water to shock her into the Beyond. “Well done!” He couldn’t resist calling out, slapping the rail of the balcony in emphasis.

“Shhh,” Leliana patted his arm. “You’ll distract her. It’s not over… see?”

True enough, Florianne was rising out of the water, snarling some obscene Orlesian insult at his… at the Inquisitor, water pouring off her black leathers. He bristled slightly, not liking her tone.

“Lèche mon con,” Avexis called back. Leliana chuckled and Josie gasped.

“What does that mean?!” Cullen hissed urgently.

“She told her to… lick her, in a very special place,” Leliana giggled. “That’s the dirtiest thing she’s said tonight, and it’s the most public. And to a member of the royal family… she‘s enchanting, isn‘t she?” Josie moaned.

“She is,” Cullen said softly.

Leliana rolled her eyes, “Oh, you have it bad.”

Josie moaned again, hand over her mouth.

“At least she’s not dancing on the tables?” Dorian suggested from behind them.

“Thank the Maker for small mercies,” Josie fluttered in worry. “How could she… we talked about this!”

“Relax, Josie,” Leliana sighed, “The court excuses bad language, as long as you do it politely enough. Elle est tres Orlesienne, n‘est-ce pas? Vivienne curses like a fucking lady. Haven‘t you ever heard her?”

“Dorian, I thought you were with…” Cullen nodded at Avexis, not trusting his voice to choose the proper name for the woman occupying everyone‘s thoughts.

“Our charming girl decided Cassandra needed an outlet for her anger, and wanted to make Solas get dirty,” Dorian smoothed his mustache, looking rather… more rumpled than usual. “So Bull and I had a… reprieve.”

“Is that what Orlesians are calling it now?” Sera cackled, sliding up behind.

“Shh, you,” Dorian murmured. “Don’t worry, Varric’s out there with her. The way Florianne and her little assassins are jumping around, Bull wouldn’t be much use anyway. You can’t charge a flea.”

Florianne fell, and Avexis, avenging angel that she was, stalked over, spat in the woman’s face, and then decapitated her with the sickle on the end of her staff with a vicious jerk. “Que le Fade crache ton âme.” She cursed, and then limped away, straightening up as she approached the gates, and already stripping off the armor that covered her dress uniform.

“That’s not winning her any friends,” sighed Josie. “’May the Fade spit out your soul?’”

“It’s fine, Josie,” Leliana surveyed the court, “They approve. She’s done enough.” She nudged Cullen, who started, absorbed in watching her walk back into the vestibule, her hips swaying, intent on cleaning herself up a little before rejoining the company. Varric slapped her on the back, and even Solas spared her a nod of approval. Cassandra looked like she was still snarling at the corruption.

“Go take her a glass of wine, Commander,” Dorian suggested.

Cullen made a face, “Everything here is white and sparkling. Didn’t you see her pretending to drink it earlier? She only likes red - the darker and dryer the better.” Dorian raised his eyebrows and Leliana tittered. “Stop,” he ordered, absent-mindedly as he turned away.

“Commander,” Josie called out, still concerned, “discretion…”

“Shh, Josie,“ Leliana grinned, “Don’t you see? He’s left to go find his Ladybird.” She bent over the other woman’s ear, “Let them have their moment.”

　

_< EotD>_

 

He found her, at last, leaning against a second floor balcony, out of her armor and back in the formal uniform they had all worn, looking impossibly lovely and at ease, even while she gazed into the garden at the fountain, its marble still stained with the blood of traitors. She looked tired, and beautiful, and her hair - despite all odds - had held through the entire battle.

Sera was a genius.

“There you are,” Cullen began, and had the joy of watching her face alight with happiness for the first time that evening. His nervousness quelled with her welcoming flush and smile.

“Commander,” she bit her lip, and he had never been so tempted by it. “You found me again.”

“I was looking. Are you all right?”

“I’m… not fine,” Avexis stared down at her hands. “My country is so…” she shook her head, “And yet I love Orlais - just not this court. I understand Dorian - a bit too well - both loving and despising his homeland. Everything I did tonight, I did to make it better. I hope the new Marquise uses her title well… but I can hardly hope. How can I? There‘s such an… imbalance.” Her face was tight and worried. “Briala deserves better than the Empress. But there‘s no way she could hold the country on her own, without her. I couldn‘t doom Orlais into more war… that‘s what Corypheus wants.”

“You did well. You did everything you could.“

“Did I?” Avexis shook her head. “It doesn’t feel like that.”

Cullen hated seeing that look on her face. “I know it’s foolish,” Cullen grinned at her sheepishly, “You can handle yourself. But I worried about you tonight.” He reached out a hand and rubbed her arm gently, offering what comfort a touch could give. Avexis covered his hand with her own and managed a half-smile. He summoned his bravery - after all, if she could blackmail an Empress and spymaster into admitting they cared about each other, he could… “I may not get another chance,” Cullen held out his right hand, the other pressed properly into the small of his back. “So may I have this dance, Avexis?”

“I’d love to!” Her lower lip wobbled itself into a smile at the sound of her name, and she took his hand, surrendering easily into the circle of his arms. “It turns out that I love dancing. I never would have thought… but you said before you didn‘t dance.”

“I don’t. Not really. But since this might be my last opportunity - well, you know how I feel about second chances. I… I refuse to let you become ’what might have been.’ So for you, I’ll try.”

Her lips curled wickedly, “Well, the bar isn’t high. All of my previous dance partners are dead.”

Cullen stopped before he could grasp her waist. “Maker’s Breath. Sorry, I didn’t think… this must be so difficult for you after… you‘re tired, after fighting the Duchess…”

“Not like that!” She laughed, and grasped his hands, guiding them to where they belonged. He swallowed slowly, and wrapped his other hand around her narrow waist, eyes glowing. The leather of her belt was warm even though his glove, and every stroke of her thumb against the sash at his shoulder felt like fire. “You misunderstand. Florianne was the first public display of my prowess. I hope I didn’t disgrace Josie. I had never danced at all until Dorian started summoning skeletons for me in the Fallow Mire to amuse himself. Not the most ‘lively’ of dance partners?” Her eyes sparkled in amusement.

Cullen groaned, “That’s horrible, Avexis.” But then he smiled, “But, yes, I bet I can manage a little better than a corpse.” With his hand on her hip, a little lower than strictly necessary, he swept her away, slightly off tempo but so warm under his hands. “You are far from disgraced, Leliana was triumphant. Josie was so relieved, I thought she was going to faint. At least… until your fight with Florianne. Then - well, you know Josie.“ She had kept a proper frame with Florianne, but she leaned into him, and he encouraged her, her lips just a lean away. If he were just a little braver…

Her eyes were warm, and focused on his, and though he guided her too cautiously, worried about making an error, her cheeks glowed. “I could do this forever,” she whispered, for once not confused while this close to him outside of pre-dawn hours.

She had to care. That soft flush on her cheeks and throat could be accountable to exhaustion or the fighting, but no amount of saving an Empress would soften her eyes. “Could you? Anything like what you performed earlier is far beyond me. Did the skeletons teach you that?” The musicians were slowing down, the music almost too faint to hear. Inside, couples were bowing and curtseying in turn, in polite thanks, but they ignored the manners. “Perhaps I should ask Dorian…”

“Don’t you dare ask Dorian to teach you. I know the spells,“ Avexis shook her head in impatience - and perhaps in a bit of jealousy - and the elaborate ladder of braids moved with her. His eyes tracked the hair, his eyes soft now. “There’s something I don’t understand, Cullen. You keep giving, doing things for me… and I’ve only taken everything you’ve offered. I‘ve taken your rock, your roof, and now…”

“You give all of yourself to people everyday. You deserve someone to give you a little consideration,” he cleared his throat. “It’s not a hardship. I want to do it.” He scowled down at her shoulder a little before lifting his eyes again. “I would offer more than just a dance, if you’d allow me. You only need ask.”

She searched his face, “I’ve never met anyone like you before. In the Circle, we were all out for ourselves, trying to get whatever we could…”

“You don’t think I know? It‘s not like I was any different, back then.” His voice was rough, but gentled with his next words, as if speaking to a skittish horse. “You know what Anders told me, about why he… well, you know?” Avexis shook her head, and the braid moved like a waterfall around her shoulder. “He said - he said that he wanted there to be a time when someone like you could love someone like me, and there would be nothing to keep them apart. He said that he had never known a mage that let themselves fall in love. I know of one, not counting Bethany or Anders. One! And she’s the mistress of the King of Ferelden, the Grey Warden herself, and not of the Circle at all.”

Avexis stopped following him, and Cullen tightened his hold on her waist, and cupped her hand with gentle pressure. By this point he recognized the signs. He opened his mouth to beg her to stay, and let him finish. Instead of running, however, she surprised him, and took a breath, “Cullen, are you trying to say…”

“The Circles don’t exist any longer, Ladybird. They might never exist again. That’s what I’m trying to say.” He pushed out the words. It wasn’t an untruth. And if Dorian was right - that she hadn’t realized there was a door, much less tried the lock… perhaps he could show her the door. “It doesn’t matter if you’re a mage, or an elf, or a former Tranquil who is also both of those things.” He raised his hand from her waist, and stroked a single loose hair behind her ear, carefully not touching even the tip. “Not to me. Never to me.” He leaned close to her ear, and breathed, “Right now, there are no rules. An Empress just admitted an elf to her court, named her Marquise of the Dales. How much easier would it be to do… this?”

“Cullen,” she shook, her muscles tight under his hands, her hair smelling impossibly of Embrium, even after all the bloodshed and exertion.

He had gone too far. He had scared her. “You don’t have to say anything,” he rushed to comfort her, cursing mentally, and watching her eyes track the downturned lines of his mouth, the scar pulled taut by the movement. “I didn’t mean to make you… uncomfortable. I just…”

“I’m not uncomfortable!” No, she was angry - he realized a second too late - the potent emotion burning as clear and as bright as Veilfire as she shoved him with her body and hand, so that they were out of sight of the people inside. “I’m… ugh!” Her disgusted noise was even better than Cassandra’s. “Cullen, I’m… I’ve feelings for…” His breath stopped.

“Well, well,” Leliana laughed lightly as she entered the balcony, and Avexis immediately backed up. Cullen closed his eyes, cursing the spymaster’s timing. “Isn’t this romantic? A starry night, dancing on a balcony to music only the two of you can hear in what might be the most beautiful place in Thedas…”

“We were merely,” Cullen began, opening his eyes to narrow slits.

“Oh, all of Orlais knows what you were doing,” Leliana smiled with calculating eyes. “I believe Josie warned you about discretion, Inquisitor.”

“Yes,” Avexis’ eyes were the color of frost-shocked lavender, her anger given a different direction to flow in. “And we were dancing. At a ball. I hardly think that is the spiciest news the room will hear all night. Especially with blood still staining the tiles and the fountain running pink. Oui?”

“You’re right, of course,” Leliana mused, hip cocked out. “I’ll just leave you two to it, then, shall I?”

“Please,” Avexis countered politely. “And have the carriage pulled around. You’re right about one thing… this is hardly private.”

“I’m glad you see it my way, Inquisitor. I’ll pass the word we’re departing.”

“It can return for the rest of you,” Avexis parried. “The Commander is going to escort me back to the villa. Alone.”

“He is?” Leliana’s amusement leaked into her lilting voice. “That’s… forward of him.”

“I am,” Cullen’s voice was gruff. “We’ve both had enough of parties. And company. And Orlesian rudeness disguised as flirting. And of death masquerading as a game.”

Leliana nodded, her face respectful. “Very well. I’ll see to it immediately.” She turned to go, and then spun back, “Inquisitor, your hair looked lovely tonight. I’m fairly certain no one told you. But I think at our next event, you’ll have some people imitating the style. You’ve started something, I believe.”

 

_< EotD>_

 

Their trip back to the villa was completed in silence, Avexis peering out the crack in the drawn shades at the predawn city. Cullen could feel her trying to restrain her magic and anger, and said nothing that might trip the wire.

He might have dared, despite the risk, but at the last minute, Solas climbed in with them, the mage in the right place at the right time to recognize the Inquisition’s carriage. They could hardly tell him to wait. Not politely, anyway.

Never had Cullen wanted so badly to tell another man to get lost as he made small talk with the elf - who had greatly enjoyed the party. At least someone had.

But his Ladybird was left to her own thoughts, and those dark and disturbing from the look in her eyes, leaving him powerless to dispel them. They arrived at last, and he helped her down, and opened his mouth to suggest retiring to the garden together. “Inquisitor, I would like a word…”

“Commander!” Two of his captains, flush with their victory, appeared at the door. “We’re ready to report!” Their eagerness emanated from them in waves. He groaned, softly.

“Go on, Commander,” Avexis whispered. “You need to… debrief your people.” Her face searched his, and he nodded. “I need to lie down, I think. At least for a while. It‘s been… a long night. Perhaps… perhaps I‘ll see you later?”

“Very well,” he croaked in disappointment, and turned away, to let her disappear into the manor. “Report, then,” he ordered, and tried to lose himself in his work, his mind drifting up to the second floor, to a lovely, lonely woman all too often.

There was somewhere else he’d rather be.  But work had to come first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> connards - assholes
> 
> Elle est si sotte. - She's so stupid.
> 
> Leche mon con. - Lick my c--t. Yes, I know. I'm going to hell.
> 
> Que le Fade crache ton ame. - May the Fade spit out your soul.


	34. Bad Taste, Ballrooms, and What Used To Be Curtains

Leliana was right. Their final party in the city, two nights later, and the nobles were… “I suppose they think they’re honoring you,” Leliana sounded amused, looking around at the elaborate pointed metal earcuffs turning the humans into elves, and the leaves and flowers bound up into even more complex braids than her own, and the masks that twisted up into Halla horns.

“It’s insulting,” Josie frowned. “To borrow a culture not your own…”

“Oh, Tevinter’s been doing it for ages,” Dorian quipped, and offered Avexis his arm. “You‘ve seen the hoods the Venatori wear, haven‘t you? Fake elf ears. Tasteless, I agree, but there it is. Orlais, once again aping the worst bits of my homeland. At least these aren‘t in shades of black and yellow and red? So nice to see a variety of color.” He squinted, “Still too much blue and green, though.”

“An expression of loyalty to Celene,“ their spymaster explained. “But… half of them aren’t wearing any shoes!” Leliana shuddered.

“I’m not even Dalish,” whispered Avexis, hiding her horror behind her fan. “Not really. Josie… do we have to stay? This is…” she surveyed the room in front of her, “horrific.”

Josie hesitated. “We really must, I’m afraid, Inquisitor. I will express my displeasure - gently - after we stay a few hours. We’re the guests of honor, and victims of our own success.” Cullen took the opportunity to grasp Avexis’ other arm. “But I am so incredibly sorry.”

“Then we endure,” he announced clearly, so that everyone in the room heard them. “Lady Inquisitor, would you do me the honor of the first dance?” His warm brown eyes turned to hers, worried.

He was worried. Worried for her. “I’d be honored, Commander,” Avexis managed a quirk of a smile. “You dance much better than the dead, you know.”

Dorian, on her other side, sputtered. “I’ll have you know that my corpses were the product of years of intense study of the arts of necromancy and dancing!” A few nobles gasped, and muttered behind their own hands at the comment.

“Yes, their steps were impeccable, but they were clammy, and bony, and sometimes bits fell off,” Avexis lied, drawing out more horrified, fascinated mutters, purposefully raising the bar on her own notoriety. Tonight she would push against the Orlesian manners that she had obeyed for so long. This might be her country, but it wasn’t her court. It was time to shock them a little. “The Commander, however, has none of those flaws.” She flashed Dorian a look, and the mage smiled craftily, one side of his mouth turned up in understanding. “I don’t recommend learning dancing from the deceased.”

“Point taken, my dear,” Dorian murmured in her ear, before kissing her cheek. “I’m going to find the wine. Enjoy your Commander. Thoroughly.”

Avexis blushed, and Cullen looked at her closely. “Are you… we don’t have… I mean, I just thought that Florianne spoke to you on the dance floor, so perhaps we could… we didn’t… see each other last night.”

“And whose fault was that?“ She couldn’t resist throwing that back at him. She had walked out later that night towards his assigned room, but his light had glowed, with multiple shadows crossing it repeatedly. So she hadn’t entered, opting to spend her sleepless night knitting instead. And so it had been for two days - never meeting beyond what professionalism dictated. Josie’s contentment wafted from her like perfume. It was incredibly irksome.

Cullen’s face fell. “I’m sorry - I’ve been so… busy. Your victory complicated many of our plans, and I…“ He cleared his throat, “Perhaps we should wait until later, Inquisitor.“

Damn it, Avexis had had enough propriety to last her up until the next age. “No!” she grabbed at him, speaking too loudly. “It’s a lovely idea, Commander,” she modulated her voice with difficulty. “Please, I would like to dance…”

“Ugh, she’s positively begging for it,” a noble man murmured to his companion. “How gauche.”

“I’d beg for him, too,” the man he was with replied, under his breath, with feeling. “Commander Cul - that is his name, is it not? What an ass… of the best kind,” the two sniggered.

“Milady Inquisitor, nothing would give me more pleasure,” Cullen waved her forward before she could hear the rest of the bystanders’ comments. “It’s a bit… more public than our last dance, I fear,” he murmured under his breath.

Avexis laughed lowly, her voice rich. “I don’t mind, if you don’t. I could use a little publicity after all that sneaking around. I hate it. I hate all of it.”

“So do I.“ He swept her up against him, and held her too closely. “And I don’t mind being… public. Not as long as we… talk.”

They moved amongst the other couples slowly, the music assisting their pace, without words for a few moments. “Yes, we should talk. We’ve been interrupted, again and again,” Avexis looked up at the carved ceiling and winced. “Why is this so hard? To admit that I… want something?”

“You want… something?” Cullen kept his tones even, as if they were discussing the weather. “What would you like, Ladybird? Something I can help with?”

Avexis risked a glance at him, and her face reddened. “Oh, Cullen, don’t you know?”

Cullen chuckled, “I have to admit, I’ve wondered what I would say in this… situation.”

“So what is stopping you?”

“Shall I pick one reason, or five?” His laugh was full and he spun her away only to pull her back in, even closer.

“I was Tranquil. Let’s be logical about this, shall we? Start at the beginning.” Avexis threw a coy glance his way, tilting her head and smiling more sincerely. “It’s worked before. Or were you not going to kiss me, back in Haven?”

Cullen couldn’t answer completely honestly, so he opted for a simple, “Blackwall.”

“Blackwall?”

“I was confident you felt… positive towards him. You spent so much time in his company, speaking Orlesian… I was unsure if your feelings were genuine, or if you were just…”

“A hopeless flirt?” Avexis laughed with delight. “I had no idea I was even flirting with him. I was curious, I wanted to find out more about our mysterious Warden. And after Val Royeaux - I was desperately homesick, and thought I could never go home again. We spoke of Orlais. That’s all. We‘ve long since cleared up the misunderstanding.”

“All right then,” Cullen smiled back at the sound of her joy. “Then next…” he grew more solemn, “You’re the Inquisitor. My superior.”

“And you’re my Commander, hardly a lesser man,” she teased. “Quite the contrary, according to Dorian‘s stories about the baths. Though he is inclined to exaggeration about the size of your… torch, I admit to curiosity. Our positions don’t bother me, Cullen. Not those positions, anyway.” Her mouth dropped open and then spread into a smile, “Wait… ‘I’ve wondered what you would say in this situation‘? You fantasized about me confessing to you?” Her voice was quiet, but triumphant, and she pressed herself closer to his chest. “Cullen… what have you been thinking about?”

She ignored the mutters from the sidelines of the room. It was worth it, to feel him through the lace covering her bodice. She wanted him closer yet.

“It’s not like that…“

“Oh.“ Now he was disappointing her again.

“I can‘t win. Either I‘m a gentleman, and you‘re disappointed, or I‘m a sex-crazed fiend,” Cullen laughed as the bystanders went mad. “I - reflect upon our conversations, mostly,“ his breath hitched as she leaned into his neck. “I don’t spend all my time imagining you…“

“What do you imagine me doing?“ Her voice raised in fascination. “I want to hear this.”

Cullen groaned, “You have me backed into a corner. We‘re in a public place, Avexis. Inquisitor.” He glanced around, but no one reacted to his little slip, everyone‘s eyes conveniently elsewhere at the right time.

“The corner’s the best place for you. No one can grab your ass there.”

He sighed, “I wouldn‘t mind…” Cullen leaned in towards her ear, but straightened and bowed instead, offering his hand. “Shall we find an alcove, perhaps, before someone else interrupts us, or sweeps you away to prevent someone taking over the world?”

“Punch would be delightful, Commander,” Avexis announced, almost at the top of her lungs. “Or would you prefer champagne, perhaps?”

“You hate champagne, Inquisitor, but punch we will find,” he tucked her arm into his, and they grabbed two cups as they departed the room for someplace more private. Another balcony, as it turned out. “Where were we, in our logical discussion?”

“You were wanting something,” Avexis purred. “You had named two things preventing you from getting it. Neither were anything of consequence,” she peered over the rim of her cup, eyes sparking like lightning. Cullen swallowed as she lowered the cup. The punch colored his lips slightly and she had the sudden desire to find out how the beverage tasted on his tongue instead of her own.

Priorities. First things first. Cullen lifted his chin, and spoke. “You were Tranquil. I… should have prevented crimes against the Tranquil in my Circle. That… weighs on me.” He cast his eyes away.

“Because you feel responsible, or because you worry that I am not… stable, because of my experience?” She focused on him and he glanced back. His eyes were sad, but softened into gentleness as he answered.

“The first,” Cullen smiled again, hopefully, this time, “because I can’t exactly claim to be the most…” he cleared his throat. “A double standard would look ill on me.”

“You’re the most stable thing in my life. Vous etes un point fixe.” Avexis blurted out, and then covered her mouth with one gloved hand.

He blinked, “What does that mean?”

Avexis flushed, “Cassandra taught me a few simple Seeker meditations, to help me balance my mind, so that I can sleep easier at night. After our first night in Haven - when I stole your rock - I pictured the stars, and my place in the cosmos. It made me feel smaller, less… crucial. It calmed me. But… lately, in my mind, I haven’t felt alone. I… reflect upon you,” she admitted under her breath. “I picture your roof, now, and a night sky, and… you next to me. You‘re a peaceful thought when things are...” she blew out quickly, like a puff of a candle. “I’ve seen you angry, frustrated, and grieving, but you… I remember you in my mind as calm. A fixed point, in a whirlpool of overwhelming emotions.” She finally lifted her eyes again and took another sip of punch. “Dorian is going to gloat now that I’ve admitted that I think about you that way.”

“Why should Pavus care what you think about in the middle of the night?”

Avexis flushed. “You don’t want to know. Two more things, by my count then.”

“I was a Templar.”

“I am a loyalist mage, if a somewhat poor one, if you look at my recent record. I’ll never be the head of my fraternity, even if the College is ever relevant again. If you think it’s unusual for a loyalist mage and a templar to become involved, despite all the rules, well, perhaps Ferelden is different? But I assure you that in Orlais…”

“Kinloch had its share of affairs. But Kirkwall was very different. I don’t want to take advantage of a false sense of authority.”

“Am I your superior or not? You can’t have it both ways. And I have never thought in my life that a Templar was placed over me. Even when… they thought so,” she paused, her lip quivering slightly. “Templars serve their purposes. If it hadn’t been for the Tranquil…,” Avexis’ words trailed off. “I might have tried to recruit the Templars instead. Your argument about weakening the Breach was - inspired. I grieve what they’ve become. But… c’est la vie.” She flashed a quick glance at him. “’That’s life,’ for my Fereldan advisor. If an opportunity comes to assist them, we should do whatever we can. Even now. But let‘s not let this conversation devolve into discussing the Inquisition‘s policy on the remaining Templar Order. I don‘t want to discuss Inquisition matters.”

Cullen nodded, “All right then, it’s a non-issue. Touché .”

Avexis giggled, “Your accent is atrocious. You sound like you’re growling.”

“I am Fereldan.”

“But you don’t even have a dog.” Avexis winked. “How disappointing. Dogs are such fun conversationalists.” She cleared her throat as he marveled at the way she admitted her abilities so easily these days. “Is the last that I’m an elf?”

“What? No, it never even occurred to me that it might matter! Elves in the Circles I moved in were treated no different… though that doesn‘t necessarily…” Cullen’s face pinched. “My being - human, it doesn’t matter to you, does it?”

The remembrance of Briala‘s warning flitted through her mind, and she hesitated. “I… don’t want a fling, Cullen. My life is too uncertain to play around like I used to. I want something better. I‘m trying to convince myself that I deserve something better,” She traced the wet rim of the glass idly, and made it ring out. “Most humans aren’t looking for something… not with an elf - and not with a mage. Are you any different?”

“I assure you I am very serious,” Cullen stepped closer. “I have had… friends, but never a relationship. This isn’t just about… sex. It’s about how much I enjoy being with you…” he stopped and searched her face, smiling a little wider than normal. Avexis leaned up against the balcony. “I want…” he leaned in closer, only to back off immediately with a glance behind him. “But what did you want from… this?” Avexis gave him an exasperated look. “I need to hear you say it, Ladybird. Cassandra insists that you have to tell me directly, before I can admit my own feelings. So that there can be no confusion. You’ve been taken advantage of before. I don’t want to hurt you, but I don’t want to be hurt, either. That‘s the final thing that‘s stopping me. Because I can‘t until you say something.”

Avexis scowled, “Cassandra. That figures. She’s still manipulating me into one of her romances. But if she insists…” She rolled her eyes, “Cullen, could you ever care for a mage?”

“Quite likely,” his eyes were amused at her tone, and he rubbed his neck with the hand that wasn’t holding punch. “Yes, I‘d say so. I mean, I do… Maker’s Breath. You? I mean, could you care for someone like me? Not a mage, obviously,” he fumbled slightly.

“I already do,” Avexis whispered, flushing again. “Cullen, I care for you a great deal. It’s all so complicated, and messy, and these feelings… ugh! Tranquility was many things, but it was easier!” She laughed, a little wildly. “And I’m getting loud, and this is not the place, or the time…” she sipped desperately at her punch, in an attempt to hide her face.

“…and we can’t seem to find the place, or the time,” Cullen murmured in understanding. “It’s fine, Ladybird. Don’t run away. We’ll wait until we get back to Skyhold. Where it doesn’t matter that we don’t know how to flirt with each other in so-called ‘polite’ company. Where I can press you up against the battlements and kiss you senseless and the only person who will complain is Bruce.” Avexis choked on her punch, sputtering.

“Are you going to… in front of Bruce?” Somehow that seemed more critical than the many nameless souls who also wandered Skyhold.

“I most certainly am,” Cullen smirked. “I’ve been waiting and waiting for you, Avexis. Half the time I thought I was imagining every look, every touch, every…”

“Every conversation at three in the morning?” Avexis blinked in disbelief. “Cullen, I’ve never been able to just talk with someone like that.” She ran her fingers up his arm to his shoulder, and then down again, to cover his hand with her own, with her own glance at the entrance to the balcony.

“Then I’m honored,” Cullen cleared his throat, eying the shadows just beyond the curtains. “Inquisitor, we’re about to have company.” His eyes smoldered at her. “We’ll… finish this conversation at home,” he kissed her other hand. “And I can’t wait. I won‘t wait any more.” From the ballroom, there was a raucous cheer mixed with half a room‘s horrified and delighted gasp. “And… that sounds like we need to be elsewhere, doesn’t it? Poor Josie…”

“It might not be an Inquisition affair…“ Cullen’s look was pointed. “All right, I admit the odds are against us. We’ve all been so well-behaved, something was bound to happen tonight.” Cullen chuckled in agreement, and Avexis’ mouth turned up, “But Cullen, that sounds like a promise,” she continued. “Your last one caused you a bit of trouble.”

“This promise is for you,” he whispered back. “You can hold me to anything you like.”

Avexis nodded once, in acceptance, squashing her desire to turn his comment into a double entendre, and turned to the woman that was approaching them. “Lady Morrigan, how pleasant to see you tonight! I didn‘t realize you were invited. What a lovely surprise!” With a final squeeze of her hand, Cullen slipped away. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you for your assistance at the peace talks.”

“Am I interrupting something?” The mage approached her cautiously.

“That doesn’t mean the interruption is unwelcome,” Avexis countered politely. “Your help was invaluable. Is there a way I can express the Inquisition’s gratitude?”

“It is what I can do for you,” Morrigan sighed. “The Empress has… volunteered my services to the Inquisition. She believes my talents might… mesh well, with yours in particular. I will make my own arrangements, never fear,” Morrigan protested before Avexis could begin, “You need not trouble yourself on my account.”

Avexis frowned, “You’re welcome, of course. I didn’t mean to suggest… I‘m just surprised you have any interest in joining us. You seem… content, here.”

“You didn’t suggest anything,” Morrigan’s voice was amused and light as ever. “Never the less, you may expect my arrival at Skyhold in a matter of weeks. I‘ll enjoy… comparing notes, I think. I hear the most interesting tales of your talents and exploits, Inquisitor. I think… I’m fascinated to learn what you’re capable of.” The woman’s hawk-like eyes raked over her with interest.

“I’ll tell Ambassador Montilyet,” Avexis concluded weakly, feeling strangely trapped. “And welcome to the Inquisition, Morrigan. I look forward to working with you.”

“As do I.“ The other woman left, swift and graceful, her wide skirts brushing the door frame gently. Avexis straightened, her mind whirring, and left the balcony, her eyes scanning the crowd for Josie.

This development was unprecedented, and there were arrangements to be made, however she might prefer to dwell on other things.

But she couldn’t suppress a smile, and the other guests took note of the Inquisitor’s confidence as they greeted and commended her, delaying her conversation with the distressed Ambassador until it was finally time to leave - their departure even earlier than Josie had promised due to events outside her control.

The carriage ride back to the Villa was overfull with Josie breathing into a dense silk handkerchief, and Leliana feeding her Antivan chocolates smuggled out of the dining room. “Breathe, Josie,” the spymaster soothed. “It wasn’t a large fire.”

“The curtains…” Josie mourned. “I shall have to empty our coffers to match them.”

“It wasn’t as bad as that,” Leliana laughed, “The nobles were impressed with the Iron Bull’s physique. I daresay he’ll be receiving a few invitations outside of normal Inquisition business.”

“Bull?” Avexis shook herself out of her daydreams, jostling the Commander’s leg opposite her own, and exchanging a warm look with the man. “What happened?” She frowned, “You two do smell rather… smoky.” She was shoulder to jowl with Bull, Dorian on the other side of the large man.

“We… had a small mishap,” Dorian began, waving her down. “Ducked aside into one of those convenient curtained alcoves…”

“They were indiscreet!” Josie pulled the handkerchief from her face. “They left… together,” her hands twisted in a strange amorphous shape, “and then at the height of the Allemande, someone shouted ‘Fire!’.”

“Uh, yeah, my bad,” Bull rumbled. “It’s not like Dorian could help it, considering what I was doing, and I panicked - I mean, who wouldn’t, right, those alcoves are tiny for someone my size - and stepped backwards onto the fabric of the thing, and…”

“And the whole curtain fell!” Josie wailed. “Rings and all! Those were ironwood curtain rings and darkened samite! Ruined! Gone up in flame because you two couldn‘t control yourselves for one evening!”

“No one saw much, Josie,” Leliana soothed. “Bull is so very… large, is he not? And Dorian’s reputation was never very…” Dorian bristled visibly.

“Oh, he has a reputation,” seethed Josie. “The wrong kind! Now our Qunari and Tevinter allies have been seen embracing one another in passion… what will happen next?”

“The Randy Dowager will have a sudden burst of inspiration?” Avexis offered. Cassandra huffed, but her cheeks pinked. Cullen choked off a laugh into a strange cough.

“And I’ll get an invite to the Wintersend Ball in Lydes,” Dorian predicted. “Any court loves a scandal. Besides, Bull and I hogging the attention kept our Inquisitor from having her own little affairs bandied about by the court.” He winked at Avexis, and she smiled at him. “I took one for the team, as it were.”

“That’s not all you were taking,” Bull chuckled.

“Hush, you,” Dorian swatted him. “I’m sure the Commander will thank me later.”

The Commander in question just smiled, and looked out the window, but Avexis took advantage of her full skirts to press her shoe against his boot.

He pressed back. It was enough, for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will probably be posting a third chapter Friday, but after that posting will decrease. As many of you are aware Mass Effect Andromeda came out Tuesday, and while the facial expressions are definitely distracting, it's still pretty good. So two chapters a week will probably be the norm for a while, while I work my way through that.
> 
> It isn't another Dragon Age: Inquisition (at least not yet) but it's damn fun.


	35. Breaking Rules, Battlements, and Miracles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to all the people who have put up with us this long.
> 
> You've earned this. I hope you enjoy.

They left early the next morning - after a heavy sleep that lacked dreams of any sort. The trip back to Skyhold was long and boring, with too much company and too little privacy, and Avexis was torn away upon her return into a flurry of congratulations and pressing conversations, with nothing but a brief glance at Cullen as he was pulled in a separate direction. He held up a hand with three fingers, his eyes desperate, and she nodded, before attempting to give her full attention to the Ambassador’s lackeys as they updated her on important alliances made - and lost - over the course of the evening, and Josie stressed over Morrigan‘s impending arrival with a skeptical Leliana.

It was pointless - her mind was far away, on a chilly roof with a tender man, and the Ambassador waved her away with a sigh.

She tried to sleep, her head full of the knowledge that she had a three o‘clock date to keep, but oddly afraid that she would sleep through it, and ruin everything. She finally pulled herself out of bed, threw warmer clothes on, and stepped out to the balcony.

His lights were on. He wasn‘t asleep yet. Did she dare?

“Once upon a time,” Dorian voice rang out behind her, “a wise woman said ’fuck this shit’ and lived happily ever after. Thinking about breaking some rules, bella donna?”

“Are you taking your own advice?” Her voice was low, and unsurprised that he had shown up. Her own windows glowed when her candles were lit and Dorian was a nightowl.

“Oh, that sort of thing only works on wise women, Donna Avis, you know that.”

“Avis… is that ’bird‘? Lady Bird?” She made a face. “Not your usual standard, Dorian. Perhaps you should stick to puns about the undead.”

“Nicely done,” Dorian beamed at his little joke.

Avexis hummed a sound of disbelief, and turned around. “We aren’t supposed to meet until 3 bells.”

“And its only just 11? And it’s so gauche to be early to meet a lover…” Dorian rolled his moustache. “How would you ever pass the time?”

“He’s not my lover, Dorian. He’s only…” Avexis shivered, “my best friend, who wants to be my lover. Maybe. What if he’s changed his mind? It’s not like we’ve had time to talk since - he‘s… busy. With work. The Inquisition has to take precedence…”

“I resent the implication that I am not your closest friend. So would Sera, and Cassandra, for that matter. We’re none of us pleasant when we’re jealous. And if you wait for him to finish work to pay attention to you, you’ll never fuck each other. He‘s never even kissed you, for all his soulful glances. Did you finally figure out why?”

She laughed, “Cassandra.” She didn’t bother to explain further.

“Ooh, a love triangle. I adore those. Especially when I‘m caught in the middle. It‘s so warm there, betwixt and between.”

Avexis came inside, caught up a couch cushion and threw it at her friend. “Stop it. You’re being ridiculous.”

The pillow hit Dorian in the face when he misjudged its trajectory. “Me? I’m never absurd.”

“If you must know, Cassandra asked him to wait until I confessed to him. Because of…”

“Because of Pierre.”

“Yes. I suppose so, anyway. I assume she didn’t want me to find myself in a situation where I didn’t know what I wanted.”

“You had lovers before Pierre.”

“Yes. A few. He was just the one who came back for more. The one I thought I wanted more of. It‘s not the same, but there are… parallels. Except…” Avexis shoved her hair back with one hand, confused and torn.

“Except that Cullen has done everything possible to distinguish himself from that piece of kaffas,” Dorian huffed. “Avexis, your Commander is over there, right now, torn up with desire and longing and cursing every report and scout standing between him and his rooftop. He has been for months. Andraste‘s Blessed Ass, what are you waiting for?”

Avexis snorted, “You and Cassandra and Varric should write a novel.”

“It would be a bestseller, if they let me handle the sex scenes. The Randy Dowager would faint clean away and have to expand her inventory of fluttery scarves when she woke up.” Dorian paused, and deliberately continued, “With every minute you delay, he wonders if you’ll come at all. He can see your lights, too, you know.”

“I wanted to wait for three bells. I wanted to try to get a few hours of sleep…”

Dorian‘s disbelieving laugh echoed off her rafters. “As if that will happen. Kiss now. Lots of kisses, to make up for months of delay. Have sex at three, and perhaps again at five. And then don‘t leave his office for an entire day, while you have sex on every surface. Picture it… I certainly am, with a few minor alterations. Most notably your absence…” Avexis threw another pillow at him. This one he caught. “You’ve moved slow enough. We’re all going to die of old age before you two actually…”

“It certainly feels that way,” Avexis twisted her fingers together. “But… this is new, Dorian. I like him. Maybe even - more. That scares me. He’s funny, and honest, and sweet…”

“And strapped. Have you looked at his ass? I could bounce a sovereign off it. They don‘t make Templars at home like that. I should import a few dozen. Do you know a supplier?”

“Hands off. No looking at my…”

“You just said he wasn’t yours, gorgeous girl.”

“He isn’t - officially. But he… will be,” Avexis exchanged an exasperated look for his challenging one. “Fine. I’m going.”

“Should I wait up? I was coming up for one of those steamy Orlesian novels you promised me - preferably the one about the Qunari, if I’m allowed to have a preference - before I caught you pining… but I could wait around. We could have a drink or three and compare impressions of strapping young Templars…”

“I’ll have to pass.” She was already pulling her arms into a coat, and her feet hit the stairs with a thrumming cadence. “Don’t wait up,” she called back. “With luck - I won’t be back.”

“That’s my girl,” Dorian murmured, and sauntered over to her bookcase. “Maker speed your way.”

 

_< EotD>_

 

Avexis slipped in by the open door, and waited, feeling like she was intruding. Cullen wasn’t alone. He was surrounded by officers, planning their actions in the Dales, war relief, deploying the Champion and Stroud, and tracking the Wardens. But she watched, enjoying seeing him at ease amongst his officers and assistants, enjoying not being noticed, saluted, or exalted.

Until he caught her eyes, and she saw the excitement that leapt into them at the sight of her. Her heart thumped, suddenly nervous. He finished his sentence with barely a hitch in the words, however, smiling wider the whole time. A few of the officers noticed his attention elsewhere, and hid their own smiles behind their hands or paperwork.

Avexis tried to slow her breathing, to slow her pounding heart. Everyone knew already. There was no need for secrecy. The rules of the Circle didn’t apply anymore.

There was nothing to stop them. The good Circle mage in her mind provided an unwelcome caveat, ‘At least for now,’ but that was easy enough to ignore with all her recent practice at blocking out the unwelcome voice.

She wanted this. She had already admitted it, and then showed up - several hours early - in order to get it. There was no reason to be this nervous. She was no blushing virgin, or simpering schoolgirl, or ignorant apprentice.

The officers were leaving, and they were alone, Cullen leaning forward against the door as if he could ward it himself to keep another soul from passing through. “I was hoping we could talk. If it’s not a problem that I‘m early. I… didn‘t want to wait, and couldn‘t sleep.”

“Talk?” he laughed.

“Alone,” she purred and strolled towards his desk. His eyes were already dilating.

“We are alone.”

“So we are…” she stopped and held out her hand, and then smiled, her eyes gleaming through her eyelashes. “Cullen…”

“Come on,” Cullen grabbed her hand and pulled her out the door opposite the one he had just closed. “Out here. I have a whole plan. There‘s a chance whoever is searching for me now won‘t bother to look out here… at least at first. A couple of minutes head start is exactly what we need.”

She laughed and followed - casting a longing glance back at his desk. It had featured in several potent fantasies. “You’re the strategist.”

“Now, say it again,” His eyes were a little bashful, but still excited. “Like you mean it.”

“Cullen, I care about you,” she laughed again. “I want you to…”

“I want,” Cullen interrupted, and backed her up deliberately against the battlement. “Avexis, I want…” he closed his eyes, and her own fluttered shut, waiting for the moment of contact.

“Commander!”

Avexis’ head hit the stone merlon, and then fell forward in defeat. “WHAT?” The growl from Cullen was rougher than anything she had ever heard from his mouth. It wasn’t directed at her, but she shivered anyway.

She didn‘t have to put up with interruptions, she realized as Bruce babbled nervously, “I have the reports from Sister Leliana… you wanted them as soon as…” Avexis opened her own eyes and fixed them on the hapless scout. She arced lightening across two of her fingertips, the pair forming a vulgar symbol, and smiled pleasantly. Bruce swallowed. “I’ll leave them on your desk.” Cullen nodded, deliberately and slowly, his eyes narrowed and lips taut. They watched the scout back away, turn, and then finally leave altogether, and he straightened up and rubbed the back of his neck as she released the mana she had called up, hopefully before he had noticed.

“I’ll… I could come back later,” she whispered, regret pulsing through her veins. Had she really just threatened a scout with her magic? What had come over her? First Sera, and now… “You need to go… that sounded impor…”

His mouth swallowed her words, her face scooped forward with his hands buried in her hair. Warmth spread to the tips of her toes at the speed of light and she rocked up on them to reach him better, grabbing him by the hips.

“Mmph,” she managed, but it wasn’t a protest, though he might have taken it as such, since he pulled away. She whimpered and followed him forward with parted lips, unwilling to let the contact end.

“Sorry… that was… that was nice.” His breath puffed out into the colder air that surrounded them, frosted, and fell into small motes of glitter, like a glyph dissolving. His eyes were shy, and his hands dropped away from her, shaking, into closed fists.

Avexis narrowed her eyes. “Do not apologize. Embrasse moi.”

“I don’t…”

Avexis grabbed his shoulders - those broad shoulders - and pulled him back in, kissing him instead of translating, twisting her fingers in the fur of his collar. He responded flatteringly quickly, much to her relief. Warmth passed between them, alternating with the too cold air as they shifted for a better angle, and she sucked on his lower lip until he grunted, and found her tongue with his. She clung to him, lightheaded with bliss, until he finally came up for air, his breath ruffling her hair and warming the tips of her ear. Knees weak and breath rasping, she slumped against him.

“That was… ’kiss me?’” His chest rose and fell, off-beat of her own.

“Oui.” Avexis panted, “C’était…” she shook her head, a smile growing on her face. “Sorry. That was what I wanted.” She traced the loose lock on his forehead that had fallen forward, trying to smooth it back and failing.

“What do I have to do to make you forget to translate?” Cullen’s smile was huge, and he bent back in.

“I don’t know, but I’m willing to experiment,” his mouth was back on hers, and his hand was in her braids, tangled up, a pleasant tug against her scalp. He slid his hand around her back and pushed her against him, and his tongue slipped into her mouth to meet hers. She hummed and pulled him closer yet, slanting her mouth across his, in a silent plea. “N’arretes pas!” She panted into the scant gap between them when he paused, and then shook her head again. Wrong language. “Don’t stop.” He dove into her, canted her head sideways and met her lips, inserting a leg between hers. He kissed with his whole body, not just his mouth, his hand sliding lower than it should have to support her against him. “Merde,” she shook against him, eyes shut, and responded by grinding herself pointedly against him. He groaned, and the vibration echoed up her body. “Should we go inside…” she managed, very slowly, eyes opening into mere slits.

“No. They‘ll find me there.” He grabbed her hip and slid his hand down her thigh. “Maker’s Breath, Ladybird…”

“Should. Have done this. Months ago.” She panted between urgent kisses - nearly desperate, as if they both had to make up for the lost time, just as Dorian had said. His mouth found her neck, and then her earlobe. “Cullen…” He traced his tongue up to the edge of her ear and she shivered with delight, goosebumps raising on half her body.

“Oh, you do like that,” he noted smugly, and nipped the tip as she gasped. He nibbled his way back down. “Avexis… I… care for you, too.”

A breath released the worry that she hadn’t realized she was holding onto, and she opened her eyes. The moon was rising behind him, casting Cullen into a large shadow, and Avexis moaned as he worked a mark into the soft skin of her throat. “When does Bruce rotate into guard duty?”

“Half an hour. Perhaps less. I missed the last bell.”

“Should we give him a scare? Since he‘s the source of all the rumors?”

“I’ll never last that long,” Cullen laughed, and bent his head down to place his forehead above her breasts. She stroked his hair and he shivered. “I… I already went further than I intended to go tonight. I got a bit… carried away? I don‘t want to…” his hand shook on the leather of her hips as he pulled back to look at her, stroking her hair back into order sheepishly. His mouth tilted sideways and hers echoed the goofy expression.

“I’m good with being carried,” Avexis whispered, “If you need an invitation.”

“Tonight?” Cullen’s eyes flashed with surprise, and lust. “We should… we should… go slow. Circle affairs were always so hurried… or practical. I don‘t want that… not with you.” He tilted his head towards her, as if questioning whether he should kiss her again, his eyes dropping to her lips.

The gravitational pull of his lips was all too powerful, and she closed the distance, briefly, and his hand caught her neck again to keep her there. “Me neither. But I want you, Cullen,” she murmured. “Je te veux. Take me to your bed and make me make the kind of noise that Bruce would be ashamed to talk about in the morning. He wants to gossip about us spending nights together? Then let‘s give him something to work with.”

He untwisted his hand from her hair, combing out the fallen strands gently. “Come back inside with me. I’ll… lock the doors early. Or something. I want to spend time with you… and we need…” he swallowed, eyes worried.

“Commander!” Another scout, but this one was already backing away. “Oh, shit, I’m interrupting. Leliana said it was urgent…”

“Of course she did, and of course it is.” Avexis sighed. “Everything is fucking urgent tonight. You’re too much in demand right now, Cullen. You have a probable siege to organize and we have Orlesian allies due to arrive... I’ll… I’ll come back in a few hours…”

“No,” he caught her hand, his eyes as huge as any Mabari‘s and twice as pleading. “Just stay. If you’re there, glaring at everyone that comes in, they won’t linger… unless it’s Rylen or Dorian, anyway…”

“Or Bull, or Sera, or Varric, intent on tormenting us.”

“Just stay. I don’t want to wait until three in the morning to get to talk to you.” He brushed the hair back from her face. “Please. Don‘t run away, Ladybird. I’ll lock my doors in an hour.”

“You work too late!” Avexis reached up just to pull him down and kiss him again. The scout, still waiting, made a small noise of surprise. Avexis flipped him off behind Cullen’s back, and then directed the finger towards the spymaster’s aerie - straight up from where they stood. Leliana was watching - she could feel her eyes on her. These ’urgent’ interruptions weren’t accidental - they had to come from her. It was a few seconds before Cullen let her go, with a panting laugh of self-consciousness. “An hour is far too long,” she finished.

“So says the woman who waited months to tell me she enjoyed my company, and longer to tell me she had feelings for me,” Cullen laughed, and took her hand and waist to guide her back inside, a warm, welcome touch. “Come with me, Inquisitor. You, too, Scout. Let‘s get this over with.”

It was an hour of glances heating up the usually drafty office. Avexis flirted openly with Cullen, blowing him kisses from her perch on his ladder, and he laughed back, much to the alternating amusement and shock of the various messengers dropping things off. A particularly persistent officer required Avexis to come over and sit on the corner of Cullen’s desk before he grew uncomfortable enough to leave. After that, Cullen pulled her into his lap and kissed her slowly, twisting his tongue against hers until her breath gave out. “You are the best kind of distraction.”

“Why were we waiting for this?” She murmured. “I feel like I’m standing on a cliff, and I just want to fling myself off. C‘est folie… the best kind of insanity. Trust me, I‘ve known several.”

“I’ll catch you if you jump,” Cullen panted, and kissed her again, his lips swollen and red. “I’ll catch you, Ladybird.”

“Well, if you‘re at the bottom of the cliff, that‘s all I need as motivation. I’m pretty good at falling off cliffs.”

“Don’t make me worry more about you…”

“I cast a barrier halfway down…”

“Ahem!” Cassandra’s polite tones cut through their haze. “I am interrupting.”

“You think?” Cullen laughed and released her, so that she could stand and straighten her jacket. “I’m sure there is a good reason. The whole evening has been full of excellent reasons for interruptions-”

“Starting with mine,” Avexis admitted with a wicked smile.

Cassandra smiled fondly at Avexis and strolled over to deposit a scroll on the desk, her eyes narrowed at the Commander. “Just dropping this off.”

“From Sister Nightingale, naturally,” Avexis supplied, eying the seal. “To let us know we are being watched, even an hour later. How thoughtful of her.”

“Of course,” Cassandra cleared her throat. “I’m assuming that you kept your word, Commander.”

“He did,” Avexis smiled at him and his gaze softened unprofessionally. “We have had a meeting of minds, Cassandra. I‘m… happy.”

“Good. Then I’ll let you get on with it.” She strolled back to the door and turned to pull it close. “Hurt her and I’ll murder you, Commander. But that should be the last missive for the night. If… there were doors you wished to lock, or places you mean to go, now would be the time. I‘ll see to Leliana - and Josie has announced her intention of retiring to her bed for two days. Make the most of it.” The door shut emphatically, and left them alone.

“I’m going to murder her if she touches you,” Avexis murmured.

“Don’t. She’s a good friend to both of us. I might have given up, without her and Dorian to encourage me,” Cullen laughed, and wrapped his arms around her waist. “What should we do now?”

“I have no idea,” Avexis admitted. “It’s been a while… we could climb to the roof, for old time’s sake?”

“So we’re not just going to fall on each other?” His voice had a dry tone she could appreciate. “Seeker Pentaghast would be so disappointed. I‘ll prepare myself for a lecture on romance tomorrow.”

“Cassandra kills a mood, even when she doesn’t intend to. You’re going to have to work me back up again,” Avexis’ eyelashes fell.

Cullen fixed his eyes on her lips. “We don’t have to stay here.”

They stared at each other for a moment, torn. “I’m not used to having such an embarrassment of options. If you come to my room… I like the idea of - this, whatever it is - not being a secret, but - would you be able to stay? I wouldn‘t want you to go.”

“I’ll have to leave before morning,” Cullen admitted. “I don’t want another lecture from Josie on discretion.”

Avexis blinked, casting her eyes away, tears threatening. She was sick of secrets. “Then here,” Avexis whispered, “I don’t want to be alone. Not now that I have an alternative.” She looked up at him, and admitted shyly, “I want to wake up and know that you’re right there.”

Cullen kissed the palm of her hand. “To the roof then. We’ll talk, and kiss, and…” she pulled him to his feet, and turned to climb the ladder, scaling it, as Cullen removed his breastplate and grabbed his coat.

“More kissing than talking, I hope,“ Avexis called back down with a laugh, as he reached the ladder.

The sight of his bed made her pause, questioning their destination, but Cullen moved behind her, and whispered, “Soon. I… don’t want to ruin this.”

Avexis looked skeptical, but nodded and sighed, and pulled away from him. “If you hadn‘t been so happy to see me when I got back from the Emerald Graves…” She paused her words to scale the tree, and he followed her up, far more closely than usual, the tree creaking with the additional weight. She sat, and offered her hand, “We might not be here now.”

Cullen laughed and took it, lowering himself down next to her, and stretching out on his side, supporting himself on one arm. “I just don‘t want- I want to know you’ll be back for more, before… I don‘t want to be a novelty.”

“That sounds like a dare. How many times do I have to come back, before you believe I care about you?” Avexis turned, her eyes dark. “I may run away, but I’ve always come back. I can‘t stay away from you. Do you think I haven‘t tried?” The pain leaked from her words.

“Ladybird…“ Cullen flicked his eyes upwards from her mouth, “Can I kiss you?”

“Toujours,” she breathed before they surged towards each other, their hands lacing together palm to palm as their lips touched.

His mouth traced hers, more chaste than below on the battlements, and his hand stayed locked with hers when he finished, as he traced her cheek with his fingers, eyes soft. “Why did you wait so long, Ladybird? I had nearly decided to give up. Wasn‘t it obvious how I felt?”

“No! It wasn’t.” Avexis laughed, self-consciously, and leaned into his hand. “I’m… afraid,“ Avexis winced, “I‘m so scared. You have no idea how important this - you are - to me. What if you hate me when you know everything? I don‘t think I could do any of this without you. If you left now…”

Cullen shook his head. “It doesn‘t matter what you say. I‘m not going to hate you. And I‘m not going anywhere.”

She glanced at him, shivering. “So… how long has it been since you were with someone?” Cullen manipulated his coat loose to wrap around them both, and she snuggled into his side and kissed his neck, possessively, as if trying to prove that she was allowed.

“Six years? I think… about that.” Cullen admitted sheepishly. “I haven’t been counting.”

“Ah,” Avexis twisted her fingers into the fabric of the coat. “Well… it’s been less time for me. Less than five years, certainly.” She lifted her eyes, willing him to understand.

Cullen nodded, eyes still soft, “And you were made Tranquil five years ago.”

“That’s right,” she relaxed. “The last time I made love…”

“That wasn’t anything of the sort,” Cullen held her other hand, stopping the twisting. “If he wasn’t dead, I would kill him. I may not be worthy of you, but I‘m a damn sight better than him, for all my faults.”

“Dorian told you.” Her voice was flat. “Should I be angry? I can‘t decide. I was drunk when I told him.” Slowly, she threaded her fingers through his again, clenching tight. “What do you know?”

“I don’t know any details. Enough to know what he did, and hate him for it.”

“Good. I think… I’m glad I don’t have to tell you. I… don’t like to think about it. It‘s hard, thinking back to when I was Tranquil. Clear memories, but the interpretation changes with emotions…”

“We move at your pace. You direct, I follow.”

“Oh, you’ll take orders?” the look she cast him was arch and naughty, and Cullen shook his head at the near instant change from tensely worried to playful.

He smirked, “I’m very good at taking orders, Inquisitor, Ser. Youngest Knight-Captain ever made in Kirkwall, for what that‘s worth.”

“Then… kiss me again.” She pulled him down with her on the wooden slats of the roof. “I… I want to feel how much I want you.” He just managed not to crush her, catching himself on one hand and lowering down slowly.

“How far do you want to go our first night together?” His eyebrow raised up in amusement as he rested on his forearms. Avexis wiggled beneath him and relished the choked sound he made.

“How far will you take me?” She laughed again, wound her leg around his knee and rolled him over. He lay stunned underneath her. “I see no reason to wait, Hot Templar. Fuck my past. I‘m choosing now.”

“What?” He sat up partway, so that she had to brace herself backwards on her hands and knees. “What did you call me?”

“Just a little nickname,” she traced the stubble on his jaw with a single finger. “I’ve been calling you that since Haven. Varric never said?”

“No. I’m surprised you can joke…”

“Oh, you’re much prettier than Pierre,” purred Avexis. “He was never Hot Templar. Cold as stone, he was. In my impetuous youth I found that attractive. I‘ve grown up since. Sometimes acting like you don‘t have feelings means you actually don‘t have feelings. Who would‘ve thought?”

“Hmmm,” Cullen frowned, “I’m not pretty.”

“Did I say pretty? Non, you’re attractive in the manliest of ways,” Avexis laughed, and braced her hands on his chest. “Everything about - this - feels different than with Pierre, Cullen. I just want to remind us both why Cassandra and Leliana can go jump off the battlements into the glacier, and why Josie needs to worry so much about discretion.” Avexis assured him. “Don‘t worry so much.” Slowly he settled his hands around her backside, as if worried he’d frighten her away.

“Ladybird,” he took a deep breath, “Forgive me, but I need… I need to make sure I understand what you want from this. From - us.”

Avexis kissed his neck and ran her hand slowly up his thigh, Cullen shivering under her touch. “I know you said it’s been a while, but I thought I was being fairly clear. I want to have sex.”

Cullen closed his eyes, looking like he was praying, “I… understand that. But… what else?”

Avexis drew back, “Does there need to be something else? I like you, Cullen. I care about you - I find you attractive. I don’t want to stop now.”

“And what happens afterward?”

“More sex?” Avexis laughed a little, and then sobered when he didn’t chuckle. “Not the right answer, apparently.”

“Not if all you want is an arrangement where we just have sex. Don’t you want more?”

“When has it mattered what I want? I’m not allowed to have anything more.” Avexis blew out fast and angry, upset and confused. It had taken her this long to get this far, only to have him… but maybe he didn‘t understand. “Eventually the Chantry will take its head out of its own ass and elect a Divine. I’m already being nagged by Revered Mothers to allow Cassandra and Leliana to become candidates. When that happens, the first thing she’ll do is reinstate the Circles. She’ll have to. I’m… the best known loyalist mage in Thedas, Cullen. I’ll be the first mage expected to comply with the Restoration, to set an example to the rest. I understand that, even if no one else does. Until that happens, I want to be with you, to have whatever we can.” Her voice was raising, full of pain. “For now, the rules don’t apply. That’s what you said. And now that’s wrong?” She shifted off his legs and balled herself up, knees to her chest. “I just want to have this.”

Cullen raised a shaking hand and laid a hand on her knee. “There’s nothing wrong with that, Ladybird. Nothing at all. But… you deserve more. I want to give you more than a few years of the Circle hanging over your head like a guillotine, ready to cut off your happiness.” Avexis sniffed, her shoulders shaking, but he hadn’t finished. “Do you know what I don’t want? I don’t want another lonely, desperate arrangement. I don’t want to wake up alone and feel empty. I don’t want to dream of you and wake up to an empty bed and no real memories. If the Circles return, I want to know that we had something more - a life together. Memories they can’t take away - conversations in bed, laughter over breakfast - not just body parts, rubbing together! I want more than a few years with you. I want to be with you, in every way.” Cullen pulled her back towards him by her shoulders, more forcefully than she had ever imagined him touching her, tilting her towards him, and setting her off balance, so that she had to release her knees.

Avexis blinked, “Merde, Cullen - you said all that and didn’t stutter once.” She hesitated, but touched his face. “You’ve thought about this. You… know what you want. And you still want me, even if… it can‘t last?”

Cullen covered her hand with his gently, “I have. I do. Cassandra made me wait. That gave me time to consider that I might not have taken, otherwise. I… care about you. I want the chance to find out if I… love you. I’d rather do that by… courting you, spending time with you, than, well…” he stopped but didn‘t look away. “And who knows what the future holds?  As you say, I'm a strategist.”

Avexis smiled, “And the stutter-less streak is over. You know, that courting stuff is very Fereldan. Old-fashioned. Tres outré, they’d say in Val Royeaux.” She sniffed, and brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, “But… I think I‘d like it. Maybe.” She squinted suspiciously, “Did Cassandra suggest this? Because if she did, I’m going to put her in plate armor and trap her in a static cage. A tiny one. Fuck her and her… how do you say it - ah, yes, ‘slow burns‘.”

“No,” Cullen smiled a bit, still nervous. “No, this is… my own thought.” He paused, and continued, shyly, “You… didn’t say no.”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. How could I say no?” Avexis laughed, and it was a pure sound, free of her prior misery. She leaned into his neck and kissed it, “Mages… we don’t get forever, Cullen. Even the Inquisitor can‘t change that rule,” she mused into his neck as he tightened his arms around her. “I break a lot of rules already, just being me. That’s hardly fair to the rest.” She stopped abruptly, “Souffle de Créateur, am I becoming an Aequitarian?” She bit her lip. “I’m… going to have to think about that. But Cullen - Ferelden wasn’t that different. I’ve never known a mage to… Are you propositioning me?” Avexis shook her head, “No, that’s the wrong word. Comment dit-on, I mean, what’s the word for ‘ask to get married?’ Doesn‘t courting insinuate…”

“Proposing,” Cullen laughed, “Propositioning is… for sex.” She couldn’t tell in the moonlight if he was blushing, but he was so warm underneath her… she thought he might be.

“Oh,” Avexis snickered, “I got that very wrong, didn’t I?” She winked, “Or did I?”

“I’m not proposing,” Cullen traced her cheek with a thumb, “I’m just… asking if we can take our time.”

“There will be kissing, right?” Avexis asked, very cautiously. “I’ve heard about this crazy courtly love thing, and I’m not… okay with that. That‘s one of the worst ideas Orlais has ever had.” She thought for a moment, “And that’s saying something.”

Cullen laughed, “All the kisses in the world. And time spent together - every minute we can manage,” he promised rashly. “You and I getting to know each other, openly. No secrets. No hiding from Josie or Leliana or the rest of the Inquisition or the world. And sex… when it doesn‘t feel rushed. I want to take my time, not bed you and send you away into the deserts of Orlais.”

“No secrets?” Avexis pressed her lips together, and blinked to stop the sudden tears. “Then, yes. Definitely yes.”

Cullen grinned and leaned in to kiss her again. “Good. I‘ll write my sister tomorrow and tell my family we‘re… together.” He wrapped an arm around her back, and she leaned into him again. “She’ll be happy for me. She’ll probably demand to meet you.” He shuddered. “Maker preserve Skyhold if that happens.”

“Even though I’m an elf? And a mage?” She sounded skeptical, but sighed, resigned. “I’ll fight that battle if we ever reach the field.”

“Good strategy, Inquisitor,” Cullen kissed her head. “Mia has always been there for me. She’ll love you.”

“I’ve never not been a secret before.” Avexis whispered in his ear, wonder in her voice. “Cassandra already thinks we’re sleeping together. Fuck, she probably thinks we’re starting round two, right this minute, with her imagination. Other than Dorian, who knows I came over here, I don‘t have anyone to tell. Sera, maybe?” She snorted, “She won’t want to know.”

“I’ve never not been a secret, either,” Cullen’s joy infiltrated the words like a scouting company.

She paused, nodded, and then continued, “But if we’re taking our time…” She pulled away slightly, and folded her arms around her middle. “I don’t know the rules to this sort of thing.”

Cullen frowned, “We can make our own rules, can’t we? I want you to stay. Whatever happens after this - I want to be with you. Can‘t we start with you staying the night, since we prefer to spend them together anyway? It‘s not that different, is it, spending a night together sleeping, instead of talking?”

“Well, I don’t want to go,” she huffed. “But I don’t know what to do, either.” She flopped backwards onto the roof, thinking of the bed downstairs. “You have a very nice bed,” she admitted, “Every bit as nice as mine. I like your pillows better. Do you think Josie would get me different pillows, if I asked nicely? I hate the sausage roll.”

Cullen laid down, and rolled next to her. “I bet she would, if you asked. Josie is invested in making you happy.” He fingered her hair, spread out next to her. “So am I. I’d give you my pillows. I’d give you anything. You only need ask.”

Avexis laughed, “Sometimes, being the Inquisitor is like… being the servant who ends up the King, I think. I’m not used to having all these… options. For example, Dagna keeps offering me runes, and it took me forever to realize she meant for me to use them. As a Tranquil, runes were the best funding source for the Circle. You didn’t let mages _use_ them. Sacrilege! I opened my chest next to Dorian one day and he cursed at the pile and then at me, carried them downstairs, and had her set them in our weapons. I still have more. They laughed at me, Cullen.”

Cullen sputtered, “How many runes are sitting unused in your chest?”

“At least twelve,” Avexis’ face softened, “Would you like a few? You can have as many as you like. I‘ll trade you for your pillows…”

“Please?” Cullen choked. “I have a dozen officers that could use them.”

“They’re yours,” Avexis reached up and pulled him down, “And so am I.” She nipped his throat and he groaned, bending over her to kiss her, hard. They forgot themselves for a little while, until they broke apart, panting. “Staying here will be difficult, without sex. Are you sure we couldn‘t…”

Cullen nodded, his nose against her cheek. “We should… sleep. Another long day tomorrow. Every day is a long day - but you have to get ready for the Approach.” He shifted to one knee, and rose, offering her a hand up. “Come on, let’s go down. To bed.”

Avexis grew crafty, pulling away from him, and teasing, “Does that mean everything sexual is forbidden?” Before he could answer, she descended the tree, stripping herself out of her coat and breeches, nearly too fast for him to see, and scooted backward to settle on his pillows with her legs outstretched. She scraped her lower lip with her teeth, reddening in the light from the candle next to his bed and winked.

“Avexis,” he laughed, “Don’t tempt me.” He flushed and scowled, “You’re making me explain myself more than once on purpose, just to make me embarrassed. It won’t work.”

“Too late for that,“ she teased, and then sighed. “If honesty is best, you should know I was hoping to get laid tonight. And I have an early meeting tomorrow. I‘ll be gone before you even wake up. We‘re behind schedule in the Western Approach even before we‘ve begun. We… we‘re not going to have much time to start - this, Cullen.”

Cullen shook his head and laughed outright, making short work of his clothing, as she eyed him appreciatively, her eyes dropping down to his smallclothes. She sighed, wistfully. Now she could see his blush, in the light of the candle. He rubbed the back of his neck, and admitted, “I’m… torn, with you laying there like that. But… I hope this will be better. I don’t want to make love to you and have you leave right away. If its not better, then… we can always change our minds? It’s not forever.” He climbed into the bed, and curled up on his side to face her.

“Hmmm,” Avexis flipped over, and snuggled herself against him deliberately. “Am I really not allowed to tempt you?”

Cullen pulled her closer, sliding his hand along her bare hip, and kissed her neck. “You tempt me every day, just being alive. You couldn‘t possibly stop. So don‘t try.”

“Maker, you’re good at this,” Avexis muttered, her eyes growing heavy despite herself. “I could get used to compliments.” She yawned, wide and graceless, and laughed, “Souffle de Créateur, you‘re so warm.”

“I‘ll think of more compliments, then,” Cullen kissed her shoulder and the back of her neck. “What does that mean? Souffle…“

“Guess.“ She snuggled back further yet, but slower, getting comfortable instead of encouraging possible misbehavior.

Cullen didn‘t bother trying to translate. “Comfortable, Ladybird?”

“Mmmhmm,” Avexis managed, already almost out. “Bon nuit.”

Cullen twisted her hair around his finger, and then let it roll off into a twisted curl. Avexis didn’t move, even when he kissed her shoulder again and cupped his hand around her hip. “I lied, before. I… I think I love you,” he whispered. “But it’s too soon for that, isn’t it? If I tell you such a thing, you‘ll just run away.”

She didn’t answer. And for once, it was because she had stayed.

He could live with that. He laid awake for a while, just watching her sleep, marveling.

It felt like a miracle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Embrasse moi - Kiss me.
> 
> C’était - That was...
> 
> N’arretes pas! - Don't stop.
> 
> Je te veux. - I want you.
> 
> C'est folie - It's crazy.


	36. Good Mornings, Hickeys, and Necromancers

The night was… strange. Avexis kept flipping over only to be confronted with another body in her bed - but not her bed. She startled awake from odd dreams, both vivid and confusing, menaced by nightmares both familiar and new, just to bump into Cullen’s body, touch him gently to remind herself where she was, and fall back into the same dreams.

She wasn’t used to dreaming of Cullen - not like this, anyway. Certain other dreams had been vivid, and unreal - putrid with corruption and warping her natural desires. Tonight, he was hurt, and she couldn’t reach him. She struggled to make her way to him, but he was always just out of reach, kneeling like he had in the Chantry, and trapped in a strange barrier. 

In the end, Avexis woke before dawn with another start - just as she touched the barrier at last, exhausted from the mental effort, her jaw aching with the amount of focus and concentration it had taken to get that far. The dragon chasing her in the dream had already faded away into a wisp of a snow-filled memory, but… she frowned, looking upwards at the open sky, before she remembered where she was. “Cullen,” she whispered, more concerned than she wanted to admit after the disturbing night, and rolled over.

The Commander was still sleeping. And damn it, he was pretty, in nothing but his smallclothes, his muscles defined by years of hard training. He had kicked off the sheets - just as well, since she had stolen the blankets - and she couldn’t resist… her hand crept over to touch his arm, gently, tracing a scar that twisted up his bicep to his chest, resting her hand over his heart, feeling the gentle thud - and her shoulders relaxed. It had been such a strange night.

She glanced up again at the pale-grey light, and cursed mentally.

Leliana woke early, and so did Cassandra. Even if Josie was really taking two days off - and she didn’t believe it for a moment - but with that briefing about missing Seekers was immediately after breakfast she couldn’t take the time - could she?

“Fuck it,” she said aloud, and pulling up the blankets, snuggled closer to her Cullen. “They can wait for me to get there.”

Cullen chuckled, half asleep. “You’re still here?” His eyelashes fluttered open. “I didn’t dare hope…” he was shy. “I thought you would wake up and go back to your room.”

Avexis leaned over and pecked his cheek. “Bonjour.” She propped herself on his chest, hands under her chin. “Is it a good morning?”

“The best morning,” Cullen muttered hoarsely, his chest flushing. “I’ve… never woken up with anyone before. I‘ve never spent the whole night with someone and fallen asleep with them and had them… still here?” He drug his hand over his face, as if he was trying to hide his smile and wipe the sleep away at the same time.

“Me, either.” She smiled. “I like sleeping with you. You’re warm. And I slept - though I had bizarre dreams.” She sat up, and stretched, so that her breastband shifted. Cullen’s eyes dropped, briefly and he caught his breath. That gaze boded well. “I expect my pillows to be delivered to my room by luncheon, Commander,” she ordered, smiling with hooded, calculating eyes. “The runes - would you prefer them delivered to the armory, or to your office?”

Cullen grinned, and dove for her, rolling them over to her side of the bed. “You can’t buy yourself free that easily, Inquisitor. You should have left while you had the chance.” She giggled, as he bent over and kissed her. She buried her hand in the hair at the base of his neck.

She felt… something obvious against her leg, and laughed again, “Someone is having a very good morning, by the size of that torch. I wish I could stay and help.” She lifted her other hand and cupped the back of her own head - messy and uncontained, her fingers caught on the snarls. “I have to go,” she whispered more somberly. “I don’t want to, but…”

Cullen kissed her collarbone. “I understand. I should get my day started, too.” He sat up, and she kneeled on the bed next to him, before cupping his face in hers and kissing him, unable to resist, until he wrapped her in his arms and finished the job. “Lunch?” he asked, hope glowing in his eyes as they parted, shoulders heaving.

She sniffed, “I’ll bring it to you, if I have time. You won’t eat otherwise. Don’t act like you will.” She sighed, “And I’ll see you at the War Meeting before then?”

“I can’t wait,” he vowed.

She shoved him, just a little, “You should. It means I’m leaving. I don’t want to leave. The Western Approach is…”

“It will be the most beautiful place on Thedas, because you will be in it.”

Avexis snorted, “Oh, you really are too good.” But she was smiling. “I will try to get back here, if it looks like Adamant is where the Wardens are. There’s not much chance I‘ll make it, but…”

Cullen took her hand, “I don’t want you to rush and have an accident. There are many dangerous things in the Approach. Darkspawn, dragons… Scout Harding writes of varghest, and too many Venatori. And there are rifts everywhere.”

Avexis nodded, “I will be careful.”

Cullen snorted, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Avexis took a deep breath, “But you’ll write to me, won‘t you? And… wait? I mean,” she flushed, “I’m assuming we are… I mean, if you meant everything you said… I… don‘t know how to ask this. I thought Pierre was - faithful, and he wasn‘t. Will you be?” Her voice sounded more worried than she would have liked.

Cullen leaned forward, one leg off the bed, to rest against her forehead. “I hate it that you need to ask. Maker damn faithless men.” He looked up and stroked her face, holding her eyes. “There is no one else. I want to be with you, and no one but you. Please, try not to worry about that. I‘ll wait for you to come home. As long as it takes.”

“I‘ll try,” Avexis kissed him again, and then, sighing, threw her legs over the edge. “Clothes, then. Can’t meet Leliana without clothing.” She smiled cheekily, “Though perhaps our personal appointments could become clothing optional? It might make troop updates more entertaining.” She ogled his chest, and reached out a hand to stroke his flat stomach, letting it trace the fine hairs a little further down than might have been wise.

Cullen groaned, “Get out of here, demon.”

“I’m going, I’m going!” She pecked his mouth one more time before tossing on her shirt and vest, and pulling her tight pants over her legs and lacing them up. “Think about it, though - clothing optional troop updates sound like they would be good for morale.”

His laughter followed her down the ladder and out to the bridge. It was going to be a very good day.

 

_< EotD>_

 

Josephine tapped her foot impatiently, “I’m waiting for an explanation. I’m assuming you have one, Inquisitor?”

Avexis‘ feet were fascinating, but not as engrossing as Cullen, who was alternating between looking stern and rubbing the back of his neck. He had a prominent hickey on his neck that his armor and coat couldn’t hide. “I… I really don‘t. We…”

“I asked her to stay with me,” Cullen reached out and took her hand. “And it should have happened before now.”

“The entire Keep is buzzing with rumors about you two,” Josie stated calmly. “We have witnesses saying they saw you making love - on a roof. What is it with you and roofs? First you‘re climbing trellises at Halamshiral and now…”

“Those rumors have been circulating for months,” Avexis offered timidly. “It’s just now they’re true. Partially. There was no actual…” Cullen squeezed her hand, his ears red, before she could finish.

“I asked you for discretion,” Josie began. “Rooftop lovemaking doesn’t fall under ‘discreet’.”

Cullen bristled, “’Discretion’ in the Circles means lying and sneaking, Josie. You’re dealing with a mage, not with an Antivan noblewoman! Avexis took your words to mean she should deny everything. She‘s been feeling guilty about leaving her room at night when she can‘t sleep… she‘s used to curfews and being watched…”

“Let her speak for herself,” Leliana interjected, her eyes on Avexis. “Inquisitor, is this true?”

Avexis took a deep breath, “I had… experiences in the Circle that make me unwilling to hide.” She flushed, “I know that this is a problem…” Cullen squeezed her hand again, and she peeked up at him, still worried. He wasn‘t looking at her, though - instead he glared at Leliana as if he were offended. “If I were - involved with any one else in the Inquisition other than my Commander, who happens to be a former Templar, would this be such an issue?”

Josie and Leliana glanced at each other, and Josie spoke softly, “Yes, but the problems would be different. In many ways, they would be more surmountable.” Avexis nodded in acceptance. “With your relationship all but trumpeted to the heavens, we are stating that mage relationships are accepted - and even encouraged - by the Inquisition. We’re saying that the Circle rules were wrong, that the Chantry that made those rules was wrong.” Avexis looked down. “There is a whole subtext here that we can’t ignore.”

She opened her mouth to beg forgiveness but Cullen beat her to it. “They were wrong,” Avexis snapped her head up and looked at Cullen, surprised. He let go her hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer. “We should let our actions speak for the Inquisition.”

“The next Divine might officially countermand those actions,” Leliana’s eyes were glinting.

“Then let her. But do either of you really think that it was right?” Cullen asked, very quietly. “I don’t. Ask Anders, who for years escaped time after time in an attempt to find a semblance of a normal life after years of abuse and neglect at Kinloch. Ask Ellendra, who lost her lover to suicide in the war. Ask Cassandra, who lost her lover in the Conclave while they both sought a diplomatic solution. Ask the King of Ferelden, who has remained single all these years in protest at not being able to marry Surana, despite her saving his entire Kingdom from the Blight. How many more lives have been damaged because of these damn rules? Answer that, Leliana.” Leliana looked away when he met her eyes.

Avexis blinked, her eyes filling with tears. “Ask me,” she said softly, “who became Tranquil partially to leave an abusive relationship with a Templar in my Circle.”

Josie covered her mouth with her hand. Even Leliana winced. “I didn’t know.”

“Now you do,” Cullen said hoarsely. “He did worse, after the Rite.” He breathed through his nostils and Avexis shifted to be closer to him.

“What was his name? Is he dead?” Leliana asked bluntly.

“As dead as I can make him,” Avexis met the bard’s eyes squarely. “He was among the Templars I killed in Crestwood. There… was nothing left.”

“Good.” Leliana seemed on the verge of saying more, but nothing came out.

Josie lifted her pen. “I will prepare a formal statement, should there be inquiries, Inquisitor. I imagine there will be - the Commander was very popular at Halamshiral.” She cleared her throat. “And… congratulations. I am happy for both of you.”

Cullen beamed softly, “So am I.” Avexis blushed up at him. “Now will you two butt out of our private lives and let us do some real work?”

As they left the War Room later that morning, Avexis leaned over, brushed her fingers over his neck, and whispered to Cullen, “You have a love bite. Should I apologize, and never do it again, or do you like it?”

Cullen touched the mark, flushing as he grasped her fingers instead. “It‘s fine. No secrets, right?”

“Good, there‘s more where that came from,” Avexis grinned, “You know who gives the best hickeys?”

Cullen groaned, recognizing that she was setting up for a pun, “No, I don’t. Who?”

“Neck Romancers.”

He laughed, and then pulled her aside, and dragged her down the stairs to the small study beneath Josie‘s office. “Then give me another one, my death mage.” He propped her up on the writing desk, surrounded by cobwebs, and leaned her back. She wrapped her hands around his ears and pressed him into her mouth. “Maker’s Breath,” he teased, breathing dusty air, suspended over her reclining body by his arms.

“Those words again… I‘m sure you can do better than that.” Avexis murmured, nibbling at his ear before he captured her mouth again and shifted her forward. “Cullen…” The spark from her lip took him off guard, as he wove his fingers further into her hair. He didn’t want to slow down, didn’t want to stop, even though it stung and more sparks buzzed through him.

“Hmm?” He drifted to her ear again and nibbled, relishing her little sounds.

“Did you have a meeting after this?”

Cullen stopped, and bent his head, looking up at her wistfully. “Yes?”

“When?”

“Forgive me, Inquisitor, for keeping you waiting,” he laughed, mouthing her jaw, and then her earlobe. “You’re my meeting. Lunch, remember? As it turns out… I’m not hungry.” He reached her neck and started working on it, kissing, sucking, nuzzling. “I can eat when you leave for the Western Approach.”

Avexis smiled and arched her neck to give him better access. “Wasn’t I supposed to give the love bites?”

“My turn,” he murmured. “Don’t make me stop, I’m on a roll.”

She ran her fingers over his scalp and he shivered, “I’m going to mess up your hair,” she threatened breathily, cupping the back of his skull.

“Do it.”

“All your men will talk.”

“Maker forbid there be nothing for them to gossip about.”

“How do you feel about hair pulling?”

Cullen groaned, “The Maker sent me a desire demon.” He lifted his head, “A desire demon that talks too much.”

“Not when you’re kissing me,” Avexis taunted and spread her legs wider. “Come here.”

Cullen met her mouth at the order, letting his tongue slide against hers slowly, as she moved his hands to her sides, up under her shirt to the edge of the lace framing her breastband, and feeling her smile under his lips at the slight tickle. She tasted like honey and almonds, and he fought to taste more, as she twisted one arm behind his neck and fisted her hand in his hair and arched her back to press closer. “Cullen… please? Je te veux.”

“Not here,” he whispered, and continued his assault on her mouth, but cupped her ass and shifted her yet closer - hard against him yet still so far away. “At least… not this time. Another, perhaps.” He lifted an eyebrow, “Or is that a problem? You said Pierre… used to pull you around and…”

“It’s different. Everyone knows. We aren‘t doing it to stay secret.” Avexis leaned forward and hugged him, resting her head against his shoulder, breathing heavily. “It’s the secrets and lies that bother me - not the location. I don’t want to be anyone’s secret. I want everyone to know that I‘m with you.”

“So the battlements were a good idea,” Cullen relaxed, and cradled her closer, leaning his ear on her head. “I… couldn’t get that picture out of my head after Dorian lectured me on flirting.”

“Do you have more of these mental pictures?”

“A few. I‘ll tell you if you like.”

“Then… how long have you wanted to kiss me? That night in Haven… were you thinking about…”

“Yes, and… longer than that by far.” Cullen leaned towards her ear and whispered, “I’ve wanted to kiss you since our first night on the rock.”

“Liar.”

“It’s true,” Cullen protested. “I had never met anyone so funny. And you weren‘t scared of Cassandra - everyone‘s scared of Cassandra - and you were so… you.”

“You didn’t even know me!”

“But the attraction was there. And I kept watching you around Haven - for weeks I was teased and confronted by concerned mages, who thought I was watching you for signs of possession…” Cullen actually laughed and shook his head, “Rylen said I couldn’t keep my eyes off you, unless you were in the field. Then I kept meeting you at night. For a while I didn‘t even try to sleep, hoping you‘d come - and you were so honest, and unfiltered.” Cullen chuckled, “I’ve never known anyone like you.”

“And that’s a good thing?” Her head flipped over to face his, and he smiled as she found the mark from the night before.

“A very good thing.” He groaned.

She hummed darkly, “Even Neria Surana?”

Cullen sat back, “Are you… jealous?”

“Not sure.”

“Nothing happened.”

“But if she happened to drop by and visit Leliana, would you…”

“Avexis, I’m yours, for as long as you want me. Longer, even. I don’t cheat. Ever.” He sounded fierce.

And she smiled, gently, “I know. Am I… like her?”

“You’re both elves, and that’s where the similarities end. Neria is dark where you are fair. Nearly black hair, and tanned skin. Her eyes are brown and narrow - like a City Elf’s, where yours are large and violet. She has this scar…” he traced above Avexis’ eye. He leaned in and rested his forehead against hers. “I’m out of her league,” he whispered, joking. “I’m seeing the Inquisitor. Hadn’t you heard?”

“She’s… involved with both Leliana and the King. Did you know?”

“I wondered,” Cullen shrugged. “Leliana’s very protective of…” Cullen started. “Wait, both? Maker’s Breath, I didn’t need to know…” His eyes narrowed, “How did you find out? She certainly didn‘t tell you.”

Avexis winked, “Leliana can’t talk to her ravens, but I can. Baron Plucky likes me. He’s tried to court me, too, you know.” She sighed, “Unfortunately for him, my heart belongs to another.”

Cullen chuckled, “You turned down a Baron for simple me?” His wicked eyes gleamed, “How can I make it up to you?”

“I can think of a few ways,” Avexis bit her lip and laughed. “But you won’t do them here.” She slid off the desk then, and then leaned over, deliberately showing the outline of her backside to Cullen. “Now that you brought me down here though, I remember seeing…” she ran her fingers along the spines. “There!” She pulled out a treatise.

Cullen rested his hip against the desk, and lifted his eyebrow at the title, “’What Is Green?’ What kind of a book is that?”

“I think it’s a lecture about the nature of certain magics,” Avexis frowned. “After Haven, in the mining tunnels, I was thinking about the green of the Fade, and how blood magic is red, and the blue of lyrium. Fiona’s magic is white - I have no idea why. I don’t know if anyone does. Anders’ is blue - perhaps because of Justice? Mine is… colorless, as far as I can tell. I should ask Dorian to make observations.” She fidgeted her fingers around the slender booklet, “This lecture was ended prematurely, because the lecturer was mocked, but I think he might be onto something. Solas said the orb Corypheus held was Elvhen in nature.” She watched, but Cullen didn’t seem unduly bothered by the confession. “But the magic he cast using it, when he tried to remove the anchor was red. The Breach was green, and the anchor is green… If he didn‘t actually open the Breach… if I‘m somehow responsible for opening the Breach after all…” She shrugged, “It might be nothing, but… I want to be sure.” She looked up at him, worriedly, “Do you think I’m crazy?”

Cullen leaned in and kissed her, “Absolutely you are, but not about this. There are other mages you could ask, too. But you wouldn‘t open the Breach, Avexis.”

“It wasn’t my intention to do so, at least. I wouldn’t have known how to begin. So… you’re probably right,” Avexis set down the book and pressed him back against the writing desk. “Now, kiss me until I’m sure you’re worth missing lunch for. I‘ll take a lot of convincing.”

“I can do that.” He pulled her back in by the hips and captured her mouth again.

 

_< EotD>_

 

“That has to be the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard.” Dorian’s niche in the library was crowded, as the two sifted through the books they might need to take to the Western Approach. The dust was thick as they discarded tomes of magical conundrums bound in leather, included compendiums on plants and minerals, and watched the pile of ‘maybe‘ grow slowly. Avexis frowned as Dorian ’accidentally dropped’ histories of Divines, pitching them over the edge at Solas.

“Dorian… you shouldn’t treat books that way…”

“Stop that!“ A grumpy voice echoed upwards.

“Sorry!“ Dorian called insincerely, “My fingers slipped!” just as Avexis found something on the first Inquisitor. Avexis set it aside to read, later. Dorian snatched it back, frowning, and re-shelved it in its original place. “Focus, Avexis. You don’t need to know about Ameridan. You need to tell me what exactly you and Hot Templar have cracked up in those empty brains of yours.”

Avexis flushed, “I said… He says he wants to… court me. I think it’s a Fereldan thing.”

Dorian waved that aside, “No, it’s not. The lower classes do the same thing in Tevinter - for love matches, anyway. Those are few and far between, in a caste system like ours, even for the lower classes. Everyone’s parents want them to marry up. Even the upper classes use the word, while arranging miserable marriages for their offspring. The question is… why?!”

Avexis sighed, and let her shoulders droop. “He said he didn’t want to bed me and send me away. That he wanted to take his time. Make sure I would come back for more.”

“Kaffas.” Dorian’s eyes widened.

“Oui. If I hadn’t slept so fucking well next to him last night despite the weird dreams…”

“No, that’s a good sign. He’s planning ahead! You know it’s going to be good, if that’s happening.“ Dorian nodded thoughtfully, “So you actually slept together?”

“Yes,” Avexis whispered, smiling, remembering the intimacy and comfort. “It was… magical. I hope I can find a way to go back tonight.”

Dorian snorted, but a smile played around his lips. “I’ve had the pleasure myself a few times. Not many, mind you, but… yes, it’s rather special, isn’t it? Unless they‘re a bed hog. Or snore.” He frowned, his eyes creasing a little, “But gorgeous girl, why shouldn’t you go back?” He nudged her hip with his own. “You two are an item. A known couple. That means you get all the benefits. You don‘t have to wait for all of Skyhold to look the other direction.”

Avexis blinked and then smiled slowly, “I… see.” Her hands, suddenly rushed, shelved the last of the books in front of her, and tossed a couple seemingly at random into the crate that came with her. “You can finish up here, right, Dorian?

“Of course I can,” Dorian sniggered. “I’ll see you in the morning. You are packed, right?”

Avexis groaned. “Merde. No…”

“Hurry off and get that done, then.” Dorian waved his fingers dismissively. “He’s probably in a meeting anyway. And I have no doubt you’ll pack faster than anyone, ever, for an absence of more than two months. How will you fill the time?”

Avexis reached over and pecked his cheek, “Thank you, Dorian.”

“Don’t mention it, bella donna,” Dorian sniffed. “You can pay me back later.” He raised an eyebrow, “Perhaps something involving Solas and plaidweave?”

“Shhh….” Avexis winked, “He’ll hear you!”

 

_< EotD>_

 

Avexis arrived at Cullen’s office even earlier that evening, opening the door with a large pair of saddlebags slung over her shoulder. Cullen crouched over his desk, frowning. “Do you have some time?” She asked, suddenly worried that she was overstepping her bounds.

Cullen’s eyes flashed up, surprised. “Ah… yes, of course.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Such rousing encouragement,” Avexis dropped her bag, trying to make her voice teasing instead of disappointed. “If I should come back… just say so.”

“No, no, it’s just a headache,” Cullen justified, a line between his eyebrows. “I’m sorry…” Avexis drew closer, and he pulled her in and kissed her, absentmindedly, ending with a wince.

“It’s a bad headache,” Avexis frowned. “Is it the lyrium?”

“Probably,” grumbled Cullen. “I… was hoping you’d stop by, so I didn’t want to go to the healer’s, and I‘m out of spindleweed. If I missed you - the night before you left - I‘d never forgive…”

“I would have waited. You shouldn’t neglect your health…“ Avexis stopped, “That sounds like I’m nagging. I don’t want to nag like Cassandra. I’m glad you’re seeing a healer.“

“I… nearly didn’t,“ Cullen confessed. “It’s… complicated, but magic is… even healing magic -“ he shivered, “but… I didn’t want to resign - to disappoint you. I was desperate, and the surgeon was busy.”

Avexis shuddered, “She’s… what did Varric call it? - a quack. Why wouldn’t you just go see Ellandra or…“ She frowned, confused. “It’s pretty dark tonight, if this is one of those ‘easier in the dark‘ things.”

He shoved her hair back behind her shoulder and kissed her on her neck. “It’s one of those ‘never talk about at all’ things. I wish… I wish you never needed to know, but Cassandra’s been nagging, as you say.”

“She’s so good at that,” Avexis murmured, laughing against him. “She’s been shoving me in your direction since Haven.”

“I was throwing myself in yours, trying to catch you.“ Avexis shifted backward to sit on his desk, and he leaned forward to rest his head against her chest. He wrapped his arms around her and she stroked his head. “It has to do with why I left the Order. About why I quit lyrium. I’ve been doing better since Anders prescribed…”

“Anders!” Avexis whispered, “Really?”

“He was there, when things were at their worst. He’s been helping the symptoms, he and Bethany,” Cullen stammered.

“Bethany,” Avexis paused in sudden worry. “Cullen, I know you said you’d never been with a mage, and I… trust you. Really. But she said you - protected her. You know that didn’t usually happen unless you had an… agreement, right?” She tried to wriggle away. “I want the truth, not…”

“Maker. NO!” Cullen grabbed her shoulders. “I’ve never been with Bethany Hawke. I’ve never been with any mage, in any way, except for you.”

“How can you be so good?” Avexis asked, quietly, looking him in the face, tears in her eyes. “I’ve never been good, even when I try. Dorian says I‘m a bad ass trying to be a good girl. He can‘t understand why. I think no Tevinter mage could.”

Cullen sighed, “I’m not good, Avexis. I’m a bad man trying to do better.”

She cupped his face, “Cullen, I only see a man who has made mistakes. Tell me, if you can.”

Cullen closed his eyes, and leaned into her touch, covering one of her hands with his own. “It happened in Kinloch. The tower was taken by a blood mage, Uldred. He killed a lot of people - mages and Templars alike. I was… imprisoned in the Tower, along with a few of my brothers. One by one they disappeared, until only I was left.” His hand tightened on hers, and he opened his eyes, earnest and troubled, “The demons asked me about my duties. Could I kill Surana? Could I kill an abomination with her face? Someone I cared about? As they tormented me, I killed dozens, only to have them reappear in front of me. They were mocking me. Any strength I thought I had was an illusion in their prison.”

“Could you do it?” Avexis asked, very quietly.

“It’s not that simple. I’ve killed dozens of abominations. And… left one to live in open sight in Kirkwall, thinking I was doing the right thing, because he was a Warden, and a healer for the poorest of the city. You know what happened there,” Cullen sighed, and tried to let go of her hand. “The answer is ‘It depends.’ And that’s not good enough. Not for the demons, and not for the Chantry, and not for you.”

“It’s good enough for me,” Avexis whispered, clinging to him. “I would rather be cut down than allowed to kill people. Cole feels the same way.”

Cullen opened his eyes, and saw truth in hers, alongside her tears. “After she saved me, I was angry. I… hurt Surana, told her that she should have killed all of the mages, guilty or not, a true annulment.”

“Oh,” Avexis squeezed his hand. “No wonder she was angry.”

“I have no excuse.”

“You were tortured and in withdrawal,” she countered. “You weren’t yourself!”

“There’s no excuse,” Cullen clenched his other hand into a fist against her side. “I’m in withdrawal now, and I’m not using those words. I‘m in withdrawal now and I‘m still trying to do better.”

Avexis stared at him intensely, feeling the fist pressed into her waist. “You’re in withdrawal, yes, but you’re not being tortured, are you? Do you want me to go?” Her voice was gentle.

“It feels as if I am, at times. But maybe you’re right. You usually are.“ Cullen unclenched his fist, and held her still, hand over her hip. “Please, don’t leave? We have little time as it is. I want to be with you as much as I can. Even if we‘re both asleep.”

“I meant, get down from your desk,” Avexis offered softly. “I thought… maybe I could help, if we went upstairs, and you laid your head down, and I… held you?” She flushed. “C’est fou.”

“No, that would… be nice. I think you touching me makes it easier. It keeps me… here. Sometimes, on the worst days, I’m there again. Trapped. I hate small spaces. Thank the Maker for the hole in my roof,” he tried to joke. “If it hadn’t been there I might have made one myself.”

“Upstairs, then,” Avexis nudged him. “You first. If I go first, someone will come in that door, and have a million and one questions for their Commander. And I‘ll wait forever for you to join me.”

“I… I told them I was changing my office hours,” Cullen grinned feebly, and winced, turning to the ladder stiffly, and climbing upwards slower than usual. “We won’t be disturbed. Before you arrived I’d already managed another half day’s work, just because of the lack of interruptions.”

“Sacre Coeur d’Andraste,” muttered Avexis, “That’s horrible.” She followed him, grabbing her bags from the floor, and when she reached the top, unlaced her boots and slid them under the bed. “Lay down,” she ordered, patting her lap as she made herself comfortable.

Cullen flushed, but laid his head down, shifting himself up the bed until he was comfortable, facing upwards with one knee bent. She began to stroke, the back of his neck, forward to his temples. “Mmm,” he moaned, “that feels…”

“Good. Now, try talking,” Avexis murmured. “You were finished with Kinloch, I think.”

“Not quite. There… was an incident after that. A couple of apprentices, playing with fire without supervision from an enchanter. I… don’t remember what happened. I was told they were injured, that I… overreacted, and cast a smite at full strength. I remember being horrified, but they didn’t want me at Kinloch - not after that. They sent me away to ‘recuperate’. To recover from my experiences. How do you recover from something like that? Knowing you hurt children…“ Cullen swallowed, but continued, his neck tensing under Avexis’ hands. “Physically, I was fine, but mentally…” he shook his head. “When I was discharged, they sent me to Kirkwall. I still wanted to serve, mind you, it’s just… there, Meredith was mad. She had this Andraste complex - she even dressed like her statues, as if she was the next incarnation of Our Lady. You couldn’t help but notice. And the First Enchanter was a blood mage all along - an accessory to the murder of Hawke’s mother. I couldn’t help anyone - not civilians, not mages, not Templars… I couldn’t win. Nobody ever won, in Kirkwall. I took more and more lyrium, Meredith increased my dosage steadily, and I embraced it, desperately - it was the only thing that helped. Anders told me the Chantry puts blood lotus in it…” his words trailed off.

Avexis hummed critically. “That’s a halluci… hallucination? Hallucinogen?”

“Really? He said it makes people feel invincible.” Cullen shuddered, and reached up to take her hand, holding it tight. “After everything, after I told Hawke to leave, I… didn’t want anything to do with that life. I wanted to run away myself. To escape that city, that life… but Aveline is a good person, and a better Guard Captain. She let me try to… fix things. I needed to believe I could still help. But that’s why I quit taking - it. It’s why I left when Cassandra offered me the position of Commander. I could get out. I could be free - even if freedom meant dying, that was better than…” a single drop wet the corner of his eyes, screwed up tight. “It was an escape. When I think now about those apprentices…” he gagged a little. “Don’t hate me. Please.”

“Je comprehends, Cullen, I understand. I don‘t hate you. I couldn‘t.” Avexis bent down and kissed his forehead. A corner of his mouth turned up at the sensation, but fell almost immediately. “After Frenic, I was… distraught. I saw blood magic everywhere. I… used to tattle on senior enchanters who weren’t doing anything but talking low in the library. My nightmares were extreme, and I would wake up with my bed caked in ice and snow, or with my sheets smoking. Once I conjured an entire thunderstorm out of thin air on a clear day because I had a tantrum. Some Enchanters and Templars wanted me to undergo the Rite immediately. They said I would never gain control of my powers. That I’d end up a maleficar,” her accent made the word exotic, “Or a constant danger to everyone. I eavesdropped a lot in those days, wanting to know what they were going to do with me.”

“They were wrong,” Cullen reached up to cup the back of her neck. “They couldn’t be more wrong.”

“I know,” she was smug, “I worked fucking hard to get where I was… before Montsimmard. For a while there, every month my mentor was responsible for reporting my progress. There were a few months I‘m sure she lied for me.” She cleared her throat, “Pierre… my affair with him was a mistake. Ah, the caprice of youth,” she mocked. “I wish now I had thrown him in a fountain, like those damn coins, the first day we met. The Circle at Montsimmard would have approved, I assure you. But even with him undermining my confidence, I might never have had the Rite if the Blight hadn’t meant an archdemon in my head. I was petrified of it happening again. I became obsessed with the idea that another archdemon could arise in my lifetime - the Rite was an escape, just as you say. But also another mistake.”

“We all make mistakes,” Cullen’s forehead creased, and she rubbed away the little wrinkles. “I’m not… a mistake, am I? You won‘t regret - this, will you?”

“Never,” she whispered. “I’ve told you, this feels different. I worry, though…” she frowned, “I don’t know the words in Common.”

“Then say it in Orlesian,” Cullen whispered. “I don’t mind. Try.”

She sniffed, “But you won’t understand. I don’t want to be considered an… un coeur d’artichaut. But you’re… I want everything, with you. It’s all so… messed up, so confusing, and you’re not. But you are, because when I‘m with you, you make it seem as easy as reaching out my hand.” Her hands tightened in his hair. “I told you I couldn’t tell you.”

“Coeur dart… what?” Cullen asked, confused.

“It means… artichoke heart,” Avexis flushed.

“Oh. You don’t want to be an artichoke heart. Right.” Cullen smiled, and reached up sleepily to touch her cheek. “I don’t think your heart is anything like an artichoke.”

“Really?” Avexis beamed, “Does that mean the same thing in Common?”

“I… doubt it. Unless you’re talking about a tasty vegetable.”

“Oh,” her face fell. “Then… you don’t understand. That’s a person who… falls in love often. Too fast? Something like that.”

“Fickle?”

“Fickle.” Avexis tasted the word and shrugged, “I’m worried that’s what you think of me. That I’m yours, too quickly, that I‘ve been with too many other people, casually, while you‘ve held yourself apart from people like… me. We’ve barely rouler une pelle and I‘m…”

“You’re mine?” Cullen‘s eyes opened wide, and then he frowned. “What was the last bit?”

Avexis flushed, “Um… a way of saying ‘kissed with tongue’. Literally, ‘spin a shovel…’” Cullen snorted. “You asked!”

“I don’t suppose you’d care to do some shoveling, then,” Cullen managed to ask, with a straight face. Avexis frowned at him, grabbed a pillow from behind her and covered his face.

“That’s not how you ask,” she sniffed as he pulled the pillow away. “Pay attention, monsieur. You say, “J’ai envie de t’embrasser.”

“Jay envy de t’embrassay?”

Avexis snorted, “No. Try again.” Cullen reached up and tried to pull her down. “No! Say it right first!”

“J’ai envie,” Cullen began, and Avexis leaned forward, “de,” she smiled in subtle encouragement, “t’embrassay.”

She sighed in disappointment, “Ah well, close enough.” She pecked him on the forehead. “There. Now fall asleep, as my confessions were so… boring. You‘re sick. Kissing me isn‘t going to help.”

“How would you ask to… sleep with someone?”

Avexis narrowed her eyes. “You said no sex.”

“Just sleep!”

“It’s the same thing. Veux-tu coucher avec moi, is the same thing, whether you’re talking about sleeping or sex.” She shoved him off her lap. “And you don’t say it unless you mean it, Commander.” She sighed, and stood up, her hands moving towards her laces, her every moment showing frustration. “I’m assuming that means you’d like me to stay my last night here with you?”

“Please,” Cullen reached out and touched her arm. “I… slept well, last night. With you here.”

“So did I,” Avexis admitted. “I certainly don’t want to be alone. I brought a nightdress, hoping you‘d ask.” She stripped off her pants and dropped them on the floor, and pulled her tunic off over her head. “But I leave tomorrow at daybreak. If you aren’t awake, I’m not waking you up to say goodbye,” she threatened, reaching for her bags. “You need what little rest you get.”

“I’ll be awake,” Cullen promised. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll only be posting twice this week - once today and once probably Friday because of insane busy-ness. Just a heads up!


	37. Desert, Sweet Things, and Better Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry. Due to the promised hangover I forgot to mark this slightly NSFW. I owe you all cookies.

Avexis knelt, only vaguely hearing Dorian’s complaints that the sand had been known to suck people under. Her eyes were locked on the ravens in front of her, as they chirped cheekily and hopped around, trying to tell her about the ‘wrong ones’ and the Venatori that lurked by the gate below. She shook her head, trying to clear it. “How many?” She asked gently, trying to stave off her frustration. Most of the ravens were confused by the concept of numbers, but one hopped forward, his eyes bright and clever.

He reminded her a little of Dorian, actually, in the way he flirted his feathers before lifting a claw, scratching, and then making four more scratches. “Ah.” She closed her eyes and pictured a Behemoth. “Have you seen any of these?”

Cassandra huffed in the background, but Avexis ignored her as well. She had been trying to articulate her questions in front of her friends, so that they would understand what she had already asked and not repeat them while she was trying to concentrate. But Sera just called her ‘Spooky,” while Solas watched her - half-proud by his attitude, but never commenting.

Bull and Varric were in agreement that she should ask the animals strange questions, just for fun. It was hard enough to talk to them on a regular basis, in front of other people, without trying to make it _fun_.

Ravens, at least, were intelligent. The varghest down by Lost Wash Creek had been aggressive to the point of insanity, panicked about the idea of losing its watering hole access and nearly mad with the number of rifts appearing in their normal migration area. She intended to go back with Cole, and see if together they could calm them enough to convince them to relocate. Griffon Wing needed that water, and the varghest could be safer.

The quillbacks were another story entirely - an unexpected one.

With a sigh, she scattered a handful of grain to the ravens and stood. “Merci,” she thanked them. They were too busy quarreling over the grain to pay attention. “The birds say that they’ve seen Red Templars all over. The visions they send aren’t clear, but there’s several ruins they‘re lurking around, and there’s a few rifts they’ve seen them near, and a couple of caves and quarries… as well as the gates below us.” Avexis frowned again.

“Do you realize that you make chirping noises when you talk to them?” Bull’s eye was as bright as the ravens’ and far more interested. “Are you talking their language or…”

“It’s… If I am, it’s subconscious,” Avexis rubbed her forehead. “I don’t know. I get their thoughts as pictures, not words.” She sighed, frustrated, “I need something larger, something that can defend itself, even if it’s less intelligent. The ravens know that if they get too close they might be killed by an archer or a mage. I can‘t ask that of them. I need to talk to the quillbacks. There‘s a pack just over the hill…”

Sera spat in the dust. “You gonna risk it? You know what happened with the spiders.”

The spiders had spat venom and attacked. There was no talking to the creatures.

“I have to.” Avexis stressed. “But first, this map…”

They had been in the Western Approach for three weeks to get this far, and they were already behind schedule. At this rate, she wouldn’t make it back to Skyhold before they had to meet at Adamant - long since confirmed as the Warden’s destination by Hawke and Stroud. Avexis squinted at the offending map, thinking about Cullen’s private good-bye kiss instead of focusing on what she was doing, and then she glared at the scout accompanying them, who squirmed at the resentment in her eyes.

It was his fault she wasn‘t going to see Cullen. He could deal with a few glares. “The map is fine,” she scolded, “The problem seems to be with the scout who made it. Raven duty, soldier, three days, paying special attention to Baron Plucky’s quarters, and you report to me in camp every night while I teach you to draw a better map, and how to fucking read it, too. A notation that the Gates of Toth only open one way would be ideal, considering how much time we‘ve lost.”

She slapped the map into his hand, and marched away to the top of the desert rise, her dusty coattails snapping against her legs, using her hand as a visor to survey the ruins and figures below. “Definitely Venatori,” she murmured to Dorian, who had followed her up the rocks. “I’m going to need you in there.”

“What joy,” Dorian lied.

“Something like that,” Avexis glanced around them, before she whispered, “Have you heard from Cullen?” She caught the sight of the first two quillbacks just below and sighed, bracing herself mentally.

“No,” Dorian groaned, “This whole ‘courtship’ thing doesn’t mean you’re going to start haunting the ravens, does it? Worrying when he doesn‘t write. Wondering if he‘s changed his mind… I can‘t take that level of angst, bella donna.”

“Well, he hasn’t written yet,” Avexis flushed. “I’m not haunting the ravens. I know we‘re…”

“If you say ‘committed’ one more time, I’m going to have you committed,” Cassandra announced from behind her. “Of all the fool ideas you and the Commander have had about each other, this has to be the worst. It takes passion out of the equation when you’re so… logical. But… this came for you,” she thrust the scroll into Avexis’ hands. “It’s the Commander’s handwriting,” she admitted grumpily.

Avexis stared at it. “Is it business, or…”

“I certainly do not know,” Cassandra’s eye twitched. “Varric might. I caught him bribing the Commander’s raven.”

“Why don’t you read it and find out?” Dorian teased. “I’m sure he wrote it in Common.”

Avexis looked down at the ruins, and then stowed the letter in her pack. “No, we… we need to unlock the Gates of Toth before I can take the time. All those rifts slowed us down too much. Not to mention the inadequate maps… I need more forward scouts, if they‘re missing such important details. Remind me to write to Leliana.” She sighed, “I need to have a word with those quillbacks. Stay back, both of you.”

“You just want to be alone when you open it.“ Dorian grumbled, “When do you want me to leave for the Hissing Wastes?”

“After Adamant, I can‘t lose you until then. It‘s only a few extra weeks.” She braced herself against the headache this was going to cause. “Keep the elfroot handy, Dorian. After this, I’m going to need it.”

“Not again,” Cassandra groaned, “Must we talk to every random creature in the Approach?”

“It’s better than going in blind,” Bull grunted. “They know where they live. Make better scouts than the ones we have with us by far.”

Alerted to her presence, the quillbacks yipped to each other _She’s here, she’s here, she’s here._ They approached and rolled over as she came closer, exposing their underbellies, their spines digging into the soft sand.

“Such good… quillbacks,” she said aloud, at a loss for an endearment to call the odd creatures. “What do you have for me now?” Her head already ached.

Quillbacks were pretty dumb. But mean. The Venatori so far had given them a wide berth.

The yipping intensified, and they jumped up and scampered away towards a stone Chantry symbol. _Come with us, with us,_ they urged. Avexis hesitated.

“What is it?”

The impression of odd, magic smells, strange shapes warped by the animals’ different vision, and the darkness of a cave made her rise to her feet. And then the impression of a dragon, one familiar to her, despite the lack of color in the vision rose to the surface of their brains, and they all jumped away - a staggered encouragement to follow them. _Man. Funny face man._ The picture of a… professor, in full robes and an Orlesian mask made her blink in confusion.

“An Orlesian professor? Here?” She asked them, incredulous. “Have you gotten into the blood lotus down by the creek?”

The alpha nipped at her ankle playfully, and Cassandra growled behind her. The quillback instantly dropped its head in submission. “Cassandra, stay back…”

“I will not let it hurt you,” the Seeker’s voice was stiff.

“It knows you’re my second,” Avexis sighed. “Shit. Those supplies we found - the professor must be that Frederick of Serault. He’s still out here - even though his assistants are all dead. We’re going to have to find him.”

“The Gates first?” Dorian asked, more curious than anything.

Avexis fidgeted with the rod of her staff over her shoulder. “What do you think? I’d hate to leave a civilian out here without protection…”

Bull laughed, “He’s lasted this long.”

“True,” Avexis admitted. The Quillbacks sat, and one scratched behind his head with his rear foot. “Fine.“ She focused on the Quillbacks, “Can you keep an eye on him? Don’t let the other ones hurt him.“ The Alpha bounced up eagerly. “Thank you.“ She reached out a hand, and the Alpha let her stroke it in the direction of its quills, almost purring under her hand. “You’re a great help. Find me in two dawns,“ she instructed it.

“How do you get them to count?“ Bull enthused, “That is so awesome, Boss…“ Avexis rolled her eyes, and didn’t answer.

“Do you understand?” The Alpha rubbed against her - gently, but still prickling her with its barbs through her leathers. She held back a curse - they were oddly affectionate unless they thought she was angry. And then they would attack with little provocation, resentful about losing her good opinion. “Good. We’ll see you then. We have to look at those Gates first.” Confusion emanated from the animals. “The… big doors?”

The Alpha whined, in a deep growling way. _Bad magic…_

“Bad magic,” whispered Avexis, forehead wrinkled, “What kind?”

The animals all whined, and one howled. “And… that’s not ominous at all,” Varric muttered. “I don’t suppose I can pass on this one, can I, Ladybird?”

“Why not?” Avexis sighed, and turned to stare back down at the Gates. “A small party can maybe create an ambush. Bull? Want to kill a few things?”

“Shit, yeah,” Bull grunted. A curious quillback had wandered away to smell him, and he was holding himself really stiff. Avexis couldn’t tell if he was excited or scared. Knowing Bull, probably excited.

“Then you’re with me first thing in the morning. We move out at first light,” she said loudly enough to be heard by the rest of the party. “If you’re coming with me, you’d best get some sleep.” She knelt back down, and whispered, “Thank you,” to the quillbacks. The Alpha bumped her hand and turned towards the direction of the man he had showed her. She stood up again, and rolled her now aching neck. “Elfroot?”

Dorian slapped the bottle into her palm. “Is it worth the headache?”

“Yes.” Avexis whispered. “Yes, it is.” She let her hand drop, and wrapped her fingers around the scroll in her bag. “A lot of soldiers would have died already, if I couldn’t do this. Now the Quillbacks are helping, Dorian. They’re going to protect the professor without getting so close that he might think they‘re a threat. He won’t get hurt before we can try to convince him to leave.”

“You’re helping,” Cole was at her elbow. “We’ll save the varghest, too. It’s going to be good. You’ll see. You‘re doing good things.”

Avexis smiled, and touched the spirit gently. “Thank you, Cole. I needed the reminder.” She sighed heavily, “Especially after the disaster that was the Phoenix. Merde, that was a mess.”

“At least no one got hurt, Ladybird,” Dorian comforted.

“Except the Phoenix.”

<EotD>

 

Late that night, long after the rest of the camp was still, Avexis unrolled the scroll, tilting the light of her mark to read the letter. It was enough to see the Commander’s words, but in the bedroll next to her, Sera snorted, “Woof,” and rolled over, mumbling something unintelligible and then “Geroff!”.

She slipped her feet into boots and her body out of the tent flap, and went to the fire, pulling her bedroll around her.

In the distance, two scouts stood guard, but for the most part she was alone. Alone - almost like being alone with him. She traced the words carefully, hoping Cassandra wouldn’t wake up and ruin the moment.

She had never received a love letter before. It seemed like the sort of thing one should relish, instead of rush through.

 

> _Dearest Ladybird,_
> 
> _I started to send this with the usual dispatches, and then decided that my first love letter deserved some distinction. I hope this will do - its own container, and the raven Leliana gave me for my personal use. You must promise not to ask Silky all my secrets, as you did with Baron Plucky. I’d rather tell you myself._
> 
> _Now I’m wondering what sort of secrets a raven could store up and tell you, and I’m a little concerned. Perhaps that hole in my roof is a bad idea, after all. They could be watching - all the time._
> 
> _They are, aren’t they. Maker’s Breath._
> 
> _I wish we had more time before Adamant. I know you’re making progress there, but the selfish Cullen side of me (separate from the Commander of your armies) wishes you to return before the siege. As it is, and as you’ve probably realized, there isn’t going to be time. With your permission, and as you’ll notice in the regular dispatches, I would like to march as soon as possible. Hawke and Stroud’s report on that blood magic ritual disturbs me. I want to be at your side, Ladybird. As Cullen, not just the Commander._
> 
> _I should also admit that I didn’t think it would be this hard to be separated. You‘re gone so often, I never expected to miss you this way. You would not believe the dreams I’ve been having. They’re so… real. Wonderful, wild dreams. Maker, I’ve been known to talk in my sleep. I hope the raven doesn’t pick up on any of that… perhaps I should make sure she sleeps in the rookery, instead of my tower._

Avexis stopped reading. Her own dreams had been something - how did Varric put it? - something to write home about. As if after her years of Tranquility the Fade had helpfully provided the dream material to make up for it, given an adequate focus.

> _There was one with you riding me, your hair falling over your breasts, and this flush spreading up your chest and down your legs. You screamed my name, and then laid down, shaking, on my chest. Maker, I could_ feel _you, Ladybird, feel your breath against my skin, hot and damp with our sweat. You said… sweet-sounding things, muttered in your native tongue. I can’t remember them clear enough to ask for a translation. I daren’t ask Josie or Leliana, in any case. They were possibly naughty, given the context._
> 
> _Actually, given the speaker, they were definitely naughty. I can’t bring myself to care._
> 
> _It… it wasn’t a desire demon, Avexis, if that’s what you’re thinking. You told me about the smell back in Haven, how you can‘t get rid of that corruption, and it even smelled like you - skin like honeyed soap and Embrium wafting from your hair. There wasn’t a hint of corruption about it. But there’s no way… that’s ridiculous. But if it can’t be you, then it must have been a spirit of some kind._
> 
> _I’m confessing this, just in case there is a desire demon, and you find me a husk of a man upon our reunion. I’ve seen what they can do to lonely Templars. If Rylen were here, I’d have him watch for the signs. He would laugh at me and call me a randy recruit with no self-control. But he’ll be halfway to Griffon Wing by the time you receive this._

Avexis frowned. She had had that dream. It had started out innocent - she had dreamt of Cullen, and Skyhold, and his roof. A clear, star-studded night, filled with kisses. Kissing led to them stripping each other down to nothing in the cold air, and she had ridden him, with him thrusting up with every movement, moaning as if he couldn‘t help it. His scent… his scent hadn’t been demonic, either. He had smelled of ink, and armor polish, and soap, and himself…

“Merde,” she whispered, remembering the dream with Solas. Had she been seeking Cullen out in her dreams? She certainly wanted to see him bad enough to try… even subconsciously. It tinged her strange dreams back at Skyhold with a different light. Perhaps the remainder of the lyrium in his blood made it harder to reach him - was that the meaning of the odd barrier surrounding him? Did the vivid nature of this dream mean he was getting better? That the substance was leaving his system?

Unfortunately the only man who could answer was the one she would never ask. Not in a thousand lifetimes would she ever ask Solas if it was possible to have sex in the Fade with a real person. That would just open up their old discussion about whether spirits were people. Of course they were people, but they weren’t people-people… as Sera might say. Except for Cole. Probably. Their corporeality had to count for something… _probably_.

It was complicated, damn it.

Frustrated, in more than one way, she turned back to her letter.

> _But it… didn’t feel like that. As I’ve said. It doesn’t count as cheating, if it was, right?_

She snorted, wondering how in the world she had managed to attract such an upright individual. Obviously, he was bothered by the possibility of a demon, but almost more so that it had taken her form. He didn’t realize how much of a compliment it was.

“Dear fool,” she whispered at the paper, overwhelmed with fondness. “After everything, you think I’d be offended that you lust for me strong enough to attract a demon?”

Cassandra coughed in another tent, and Avexis covered her mouth.

> _On a more innocent note, you should know that your name day gift is being put to good use. I know the soldiers laugh at me behind their backs, but I don’t think I’ve had such a well made watch cap since my mother made them for the four of us, long before the Blight. And the gloves are perfect. I’m an object of envy amongst the Fereldans in Skyhold. I’ve had several ask me whether they could pay you to make them a pair. Of course, they probably think them blessed by the Herald of Andraste, but even that couldn’t make them more perfect._
> 
> _Of course, I won’t find much use for them, where we’re headed. Towards you…_
> 
> _Ladybird, how’s this for an embarrassing confession? I’m thrilled to be leaving for Orlais - me, a stalwart Fereldan Dog Lord - because it’s where you are._
> 
> _I’ve named the little Mabari carving you gave me ‘Moira‘, after the Rebel Queen. I apologize to your Orlesian patriotism. She’s doing a proper job. Certain scouts are afraid to approach my desk at all. You can probably_ _guess which ones. Of course, it’s probably not because of our little friend, but rather the foul temper of your correspondent. The word in the barracks is that the Commander misses his lady to distraction, and that such pining erodes his temper. I don’t suppose the Inquisitor could do anything about that?_
> 
> _I don’t want to stop writing to you tonight, even though I‘m struggling to keep my eyes open. I’m picturing you reading this - perhaps late at night by the light of a fire, under more stars than either of us has seen in our lives. My books about the West tell me such things - I will know if they are true, soon enough. Be careful, Ladybird. There’s so much I want to say - to you, not in a letter._
> 
> _But for now, I will (attempt to) retire, and hope (despite poor chances) that I will dream once more of you._
> 
> _I remain, your (waiting)_
> 
> _Cullen_

 

Avexis slowly lowered her hand from her mouth. The other tents were still silent. She read the letter again, shaping certain words and tasting them on her tongue. Your Waiting Cullen. His lady. Pining. Missing her to distraction. Such words.

She remembered what she had whispered during her dream. She would write it back to him, and see if he recognized it.

And she would give the Commander of her armies permission to join them at Griffon Wing.

She had never missed anyone so much in her life - like missing a limb.

Perhaps it should feel more dangerous - but for now she just wanted to sleep, and see if he was there. Dorian, at least, would say it was healthy experimentation. She would be careful.

 

<EotD>

 

The dream started in the same place they all did - his roof, with stars whirling above - but these more like those in the Western Approach. He was there, too, but with that strange bubble surrounding him. It had happened a few times, now, and he seemed - calmer inside it, sitting instead of kneeling, as she reached out and popped it with a touch.

He smiled, face lighting up. “You came.” His face crumpled into worry. “It’s not you, though. Not really.” He narrowed his eyes, and she felt a rush of willpower emanate from him, blowing through her like a warm wind. “Be gone, Demon.”

Avexis laughed, and he frowned. “I’m not a demon, Cullen. I’m dreaming of you, too.” She settled down next to him, careful not to touch him. That way led to trouble, evidently. “I’m sorry about the dream the other night. I… I let things get out of hand. I didn‘t realize what was happening until I got your letter. I didn‘t mean to take advantage.”

He blinked, “It can’t be you. This is… impossible.”

“Why does it have to be impossible? Cassandra reads bad smut. Bull loves pink. Dorian drinks Fereldan ale. Weirder things do happen - most of them to me.”

“Beautiful women - real, beautiful women - do _not_ populate my dreams. Demons do that!”

“You have said that I’m a Desire demon…”

“That’s not even remotely funny, but it does sound like something Avexis would say…” she could feel his hesitation, wanting to believe, but wary, wounded.

“I don’t know what to say to prove it to you,” she sniffed. “The mark gives me an odd ability. I ended up in a dream of Solas’ once. Don’t want to do that again - but you could ask him, I suppose. That dream was creepy, and I put an end to it quickly. I think… I think if you still took lyrium, it would keep me away. But I‘m glad I can see you. Perhaps it means the lyrium is leaving you.” She leaned in, “It’s really me, Cullen. Your Ladybird, though I do wish you wouldn‘t call me a bug. It‘s not flattering.”

“Keep going,” he said, still understandably hostile.

“It’s not cheating?” She offered. He lifted an eyebrow, skeptical. “Look up. Those are the stars over the Approach.” Cullen glanced that direction and his eyes softened in awe and wonder. “I got your letter today. My first love letter. It was… beautiful. Especially the naughty portion.” She let her eyelashes drift down, and Cullen blushed.

“It was… I was just telling you the dream. I didn’t make it up. I‘m not that creative.”

“I dreamt it, too,” she laughed, reminding him. “It was a wonderful dream. Not nearly as satisfying as the real thing will be… but something to think about on lonely nights for certain.”

Cullen flushed dark, “That’s… hard to believe. I haven’t… not since I was a recruit.”

Avexis laughed aloud, “Oh, Cullen, haven’t you? I’ve been insisting on camping near the creeks here, so that I can wash in the morning without taking a hike. Your fault.” She nudged his hip, risking touching him.

He gaped at the contact, and then shaking, reached out for her. “If this is real… come here.” Avexis shifted over, and leaned into him. “Maker’s Breath,” he breathed out. “This is the strangest thing that has ever happened to me.” She nestled in closer. “It’s good to see you. I’ve been so worried.”

“I’m all right,” Avexis whispered. “The quillbacks have proved helpful, even though the Western Approach is shit.”

Cullen chuckled, “That proves it’s you. Only my Ladybird would say something like that and have it make sense.” He kissed her hair, and tipped up her chin, kissing her lips, breathing against her gently, “I wanted it to be you. It’s the reason I mentioned it.” 

“Guess you get your wish,” Avexis giggled. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in a repeat.”

Cullen groaned, “Not now that I know you’re… I want reality, Avexis. This is… just a substitute.” His nostrils flared with frustration. “Are you sleeping well enough?”

“I’m…” she sighed, unwilling to lie, “No. I’m not. The nights like this are better. But I miss you. I miss Skyhold. I hate sand. I’ve a sunburn that you can’t believe. And tomorrow we’re making our way through the Gates of Toth - it looks like a Venatori stronghold. The quillbacks say there‘s bad magic in there, but they haven‘t been inside. They just know to stay away. And there‘s an imbecile professor out here, alone, because he got all his assistants killed…”

“Be careful.”

“I’ll try. For you.” She reached up and kissed him again, and he pulled her onto his lap. “Cullen… I thought you wanted reality?”

“I want you. All of you. It‘s hard to resist, knowing it‘s really you.” Cullen glanced up, his face hungry. “But I’ll see you soon.”

Avexis laughed, “You know where to find me. You have my permission to march, Commander.”

Cullen winked, “We left the day after I sent the letter. Leliana agreed, and Josie saw no reason to delay. We knew you‘d approve.”

Avexis slapped his shoulder, “Insubordination. I ought to court-martial the lot of you.” She smiled, “Fortunately for you, I understand. Especially since it means I‘ll see you sooner rather than later.” She bent and kissed him slowly. He wrapped his arms around her back, but after a minute, she pulled away. “Would you rather I… stopped myself from looking for you? I think I can. I’ve never found Solas again, after all. It‘s possible he‘s warding himself, but…”

Cullen hesitated, “I… I’m not sure.” He cleared his throat, “Ask me when you see me. Outside of the Fade, I mean. I need to - clear my head.”

“I can do that,” she sighed. “I suppose we’ll meet at Griffon Wing?”

Cullen shook his head, “You read my personal letter before the dispatches. Bad professional practice, Inquisitor. We’re marching directly for Adamant. You should report to Griffon Wing, give Rylen his orders - you’re in charge of his company.”

Avexis blinked, worried, “Cullen - I’m going to be in the heart of the battle. I can’t guarantee his…”

“He knows the risks,” Cullen’s words were harsh, but his voice was gentle, and he stroked a strand of her hair off her face. “Embrium,” he said, shaking his head, “You always smell like Embrium. Even when you‘re in the middle of the desert.” He leaned forward, and she rocked to meet him so that their foreheads met. “Please be careful, Ladybird.” He kissed her deep, pulled back, and sighed, “We should wake up.”

Avexis snapped awake, aching and gasping, with his name on her lips.

Sera opened one narrow eye, “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” She rolled over. “Gonna switch tents tomorrow. You talk in your sleep. Eww.”

 


	38. Chants, Rites, and Uncomfortable Questions

Cullen started awake, sweating. “She was there,” he said aloud, incredulous. “Maker’s Mercy, Avexis was…” he drug a hand over his face, shaking. He swung his legs over to the side of the cot, and into his pants, pulling them up and slipping into his boots, fastening the belt with the ease of a trained soldier. “I believe. It was _her_.”

His body was convinced, though his brain stuttered with denial of what had just happened. He pulled a shirt over his head and grabbed his cloak, striding out of his tent with a destination in mind.

From the light out on the horizon, it was about an hour until dawn. Time enough until he needed to be available.

He shivered as he entered the shadowed side of the camp - even the night watch’s fires dampened this early in the morning, and slipped out towards the small shrine, crossing the dewy grass and watching his boot leather darken with the early morning wet. He stepped towards the small icon with reverence. No sleeping tents were nearby. He wouldn’t disturb anyone way out here.

He approached the altar, and lit a single candle with a taper from her bowl of eternal flame, and knelt before it, mind stalling.

He usually started with “Blessed are the Righteous, Champions of the Just,” but as the first words left automatically, he stopped, feeling the inappropriateness. There had to be something better for the way he felt. He let his mind go blank, and just listened to his breath for a few moments.

In recent years, there had been few times when he had Chanted and felt Andraste listening to his words. He was used to Her not hearing. But this… he shook himself involuntarily, and began, haltingly, “There was no word for heaven or for earth, for sea and sky. All that existed was silence.” He stopped for a moment, thinking on the verse, and feeling how it felt right. His prison back in Kinloch was dark, and isolated, and completely silent. “Then the Voice of the Maker rang out, the first Word, and His Word became all that might be: Dream,” his voice broke and he had to take a deep breath, “Dream and idea, hope and fear, Endless possibilities.” He smiled, and repeated, “Endless possibilities.”

The first verse of Apotheosis captured his wonder at the gift Avexis had given him, that was certain. But… he closed his eyes again and lifted his face up to the sky, as Avexis did when she chanted. “How can we know You?” He asked, nearly expecting an answer, in the face of the miracle that had just occurred while he slept. “In the turning of the seasons, in life and death, in the empty space where our hearts hunger for a forgotten face?” His voice gentled, “You have walked beside me down the paths where a thousand arrows sought my flesh. You have stood with me when all others have forsaken me. I have faced armies with You as my shield, and though I bear scars beyond counting, nothing can break me except Your absence.” He grinned involuntarily, recognizing the next verse as Avexis’ favorite. “When I have lost all else, when my eyes fail me and the taste of blood fills my mouth, then in the pounding of my heart I hear the glory of creation.” His voice faltered as his breath gave out.

An Orlesian voice spoke up from behind him, “An unusual choice for you today, Commander.”

Cullen stood and spun, “Mother Giselle, I…”

“You chant well,” she approved gently. “I’m not the only one who thinks so. But this is not your usual chapter and verse. May I ask what prompts the change?”

Cullen breathed twice, in and out before asking, “Mother Giselle - do you believe in miracles?”

The Revered Mother tilted her head sideways, “Often what is viewed as a miracle has a basis in fact, in chance. But… yes. The Hand of the Maker is seen in strange ways. Have you experienced such a miracle?”

“I think I have,” Cullen turned and looked back at the statue of Andraste with awe. “I think I have.”

“A private miracle, then,” the Mother chuckled. “I will not ask, Commander. Not even under the guise of confession, as curious as I am.”

Cullen flushed, “Thank you, Revered Mother.”

“If something burdens you, I am here,” she offered gently. “But I sense you’re here for a better purpose today. It does me good to see it.”

“I am.” Cullen lifted his chin, “I’m here out of gratitude. A… private torment has ended.”

“A very good reason indeed.” The Mother touched his sleeve. “Go in peace, Commander. Maker bless you.”

　

_< EotD>_

　

Avexis stared at the man before her with a combination of incredulity and respect. “Really,” she began, “You’re here to study dragons? Now?” A stray hot wind blew her coattails out behind her, and the grit of the sand surrounded them blasted the side of her face.

“Exactement,” the Professor’s eagerness shone through his body language, despite his formal mask hiding his entire face.

“Your assistants are dead,” Avexis stressed to him. “There are bandits everywhere. The quillbacks say that you’re taking crazy risks trying to lure a dragon down here. Professeur Serault, you must leave the Approach.”

“Non! I cannot,” he enthused. “This is the chance of a lifetime. And you are the Inquisitor. Rumor has it that you speak to the creatures! You can assist me with my research… Did you just say you spoke to the quillbacks?” The eyes behind the mask shone with the fervor of scholarship and curiosity. “That is… may I ask you some questions?”

“Maker preserve me,” snarled Cassandra. “If you’re going to ask what I think - I want no part of this absurd request.”

“But you can control dragons… or so the stories say. I am all too aware that historians are known for exaggerating the facts, or warping them due to bias - it’s not a hard science, like biology.” The Professor’s disdain for the ’softer’ fields dripped from his lips. “I’m sure Monsieur Tethras would agree with me, though his ‘Tale of the Champion‘ is one of the better works in his field.”

Varric coughed awkwardly, “Yeah, funny you should say that…”

The Professor pushed his advantage, rolling over the protests resting on the tip of Avexis‘ tongue. “All I ask is that you set the lures - the dragon will come, my research has been very thorough, I assure you - and then you can ask it some questions - simple questions, about mating habits, hunting habits, and so on…”

Asking dragons about their mating practices had to be about the last thing she ever wanted to do. She rubbed her eyes, gritty from fatigue and sand. “If I do it, will you agree to leave?”

“Leave?” The Professor seemed confused, “Why would I leave? The dragon is here, not in my office at the University…”

“Because your assistants are dead? And you will be, soon enough. There‘s a war going on, Professor.”

“We could take a dragon, Boss, if it all goes wrong,” Bull urged. “Call it in, and we’ll…”

“Can you do that?” The Professor’s breath was shaky. “Can you actually _ask it to come?_ ” His hands drifted towards a quill and a scroll. “C‘est remarqueable!”

Avexis closed her eyes, trying to be patient. “I can try. But Professor, it’s not… simple. Or safe.” She chewed on her lower lip, thinking fast. “Bull - if I do, you can’t attack. Keep your lures for another day, Professeur Serault. I’ll… I’ll do this my way.”

Bull’s eye softened, “Just the idea of seeing one up close like that… am I dreaming? Dorian… pinch me?”

“You’d like that too much,” Dorian grumped.

“Well… yeah,” Bull said bluntly. “What’s not to like?”

The Professor eyed him with approval, “We have much to discuss, my horny friend, if you see the beauty in such creatures.” He turned away and fished in one of his leather-bound chests, until he found a short length of parchment, half full with scrawling script. “Ah yes, here we go.” He turned and with shaking hands, pressed it into her glove. “A list of questions I don’t have answers for. No doubt there will be more. I don‘t even know what to ask!”

“And if I do this, you’ll leave the Approach, correct?” Avexis tried once more.

The Professor laughed, “If you do this, I’ll personally join the Inquisition, and you can send me wherever you‘d like. You would make a wonderful assistant, Inquisitor, if you‘re ever looking for a change.” He lifted a massive notebook and intoned, “The rough draft of my masterwork. It will explain the best time to observe them in their natural habitat. Evenings are best, though they are not nocturnal - they’re merely hungriest right before sleeping, I believe.” His instructions went on and on for some time, before Avexis finally stopped him, by taking the notebook.

“We’ll see you soon, Professeur.”

“Of course, you’ll need time to travel to the site! Bon Chance!”

That evening, Avexis found herself at the entrance of a strange ruin, shivering as the sun set, a precursor to the throes of the warm desert’s frigid nights. Cassandra, grunting in apparent disgust, offered her a vial of lyrium. “Non,” she refused, “I… I don’t think I need it. She’s… already talking to me.” Her eyes focused and she ordered, “Get back, all of you. Unless she attacks, I have to be here alone. I don’t want her to think it‘s a trap. They‘ve been trying - the bandits. Maker knows why…”

Cassandra snarled, “I am not leaving you alone with a dragon, Avexis.” She turned and kicked in the stone door of the ruin behind her. “I’ll be right behind you, out of sight.”

“That will work. With luck, she‘ll just think the smells are those of the bandits we wiped out earlier.” Avexis lifted her face up to the sky, the sun just a dim sliver on the horizon. “It’s coming. All of you… go.”

They dove for the ruin as one, except for Vivienne who strolled gracefully to the door, and Bull, who backed away slowly, eye longing. Avexis closed her own, and concentrated on peaceful thoughts.

_Daughter._ Avexis opened them, and the dragon stood, half curled around a fallen pillar. _You’re small._

“Dragons always say that,” Avexis laughed nervously. “I’m here at the request of a certain scholar who has been leaving you… food. He has some questions for you. Will you answer them for me?”

The dragon blew out a smoke-like vapor. _Will you answer mine first?_

“That’s fair…” Avexis cleared her throat. “Go ahead.”

_I’ve been watching, listening. You fight the red ones, and the ones that smell of blood, but you let our cousins live. Why?_

“It was their home first,” Avexis stammered. “And the red ones and… bloody ones are bad people. They do bad things to everyone. If by cousins you mean the varghest - he was just defending the water source. I‘m sorry about the phoenix… I didn‘t want to kill it.”

_Nothing is forbidden._ The dragon sounded nearly amused. _It is their nature to fight, attack. But not yours._ Its huge eyes blinked, a slow drag of confusion, and then an inner eyelid clouded its vision. _But then, you’re more like us than them, Daughter. We’re territorial, but we don’t seek out trouble for its own sake._

Avexis didn’t bother to argue, “Did you have more questions?”

The dragon adjusted itself more comfortably. _Not particularly._ It yawned. _I’m hungry, though. I need to eat, and sleep. Perhaps you should ask what you want to know and let me hunt._

“I’ll make this as quick as possible,” Avexis shuddered.

The dragon coughed smoke, its mental processes amused. _I’m not going to eat you, daughter. I’m not a cannibal._

“I’m not a dragon,” Avexis argued.

_That’s a matter of opinion. Ask, and I’ll answer. But don’t try my patience._

Avexis’ hands shook. “Do you hunt or scavenge? Or both?”

_Depends on how hungry I am, and, at least in recent days, how much killing you’ve been doing. I don’t eat contaminated food - the red ones are wrong. I know to stay away from the red. But I had a lovely meal on the phoenix you couldn’t talk down._ The dragon was definitely amused. _You even skinned it for me. The meat was a little sandy, but… no point in letting good phoenix go to waste. When you aren’t laying waste to the countryside, however, I usually hunt. The silly quillbacks you’re such friends with stick going down. Easier to swallow the entrails when you gut them… but so tasty. That man with the strange face chose his bait well. So hard to resist…_

She made a quick notation under the question, and stammered. “I apologize if it’s rude, but I’m supposed to ask you about mating practices.”

The dragon snorted, curls of something like smoke coming out of its mouth. _No drakes around here, just my last hatchlings, too small to fly. Not quite hot enough, this time of year. And this isn’t protected enough. Not going to lay eggs just to let them freeze or be stolen. They need heat, and lots of it._

“Do you… mate in mid-air, or…” Avexis could feel the heat reaching her ears, and heard Bull‘s snort of interest, loud enough to penetrate the rock behind her.

_By the First Scale, you are ignorant. Didn’t your mother ever teach you anything about the facts of life?_ The dragon shook itself. _I lay the eggs. The drakes fertilize them. Flying is for hunting our prey, not for mating. That happens on the ground. They’d never catch me, otherwise._ Smug and a little condescending now, the dragon’s resemblance to Vivienne was pronounced.

“I… No. My mother didn’t,” Avexis flushed, despite herself. “I never knew my mother.”

_That must be why you’re so small, and don’t hunt properly. If you were to stay, I could help - you have a few hundred years before you’ll be fully grown. I could train you with my hatchlings. You’ll never be large, but you still have potential. I’ve watched you kill things. You’re good at it. Excellent use of lightening - most of us don’t bother with your level of finesse. Blunt force works just as well when you‘re bigger than everything else._

Avexis blinked, incredulous at the dragon‘s innate dry humor. Was the dragon actually offering to train her? “Thank you, but I have another… commitment.”

_A shame. I’d share my territory with you. You’re better than the giants anyway._ The dragon pulled itself to its feet. _I’m very hungry, and giant sounds tasty. Excuse me._

“Of course,” Avexis bowed. “I thank you for your patience. I have more questions, but… I‘ve intruded enough already.”

_Stay out of trouble, Daughter. Those red ones hunt you as much as you hunt them._

Avexis nodded, and stepped back as the dragon sprung into the air. She lifted her arm to block the billows of dust flying up and around her as her friends emerged from the ruin behind her. “Well, that was… insightful. I hope.” She folded the parchment with a scowl and shaking hands. “I’ll just get this back to Professeur Serault.”

“You know he’s not just going to leave, right, Ladybird?”

“I am aware, Varric. But maybe… maybe we can convince him to relocate to Griffon Wing, at the very least. No dragon is worth risking your life for.”

“Is that so?” Dorian drawled, “Then why are we here, exactly?”

Avexis flushed and didn’t answer.

　

_< EotD>_

 

　

A smaller group descended into the bowels of the cave the next morning, led there by the quillbacks and the Chantry symbols. It was deep enough that the sun blocked out entirely, even in the late day. Avexis had found it impossible to evade the enthusiastic Professor for the entire day, and so they were only just reaching their destination. Dorian lit torches as they went, small circles that reassured with subtle warmth. Stalactites dripped, echoing onto their ground counterparts like drool from teeth. It was hard not to imagine being devoured, swallowed, digested by the darkness.

They reached the central chamber, and Dorian lit the rest of the torches - with regular fire, not Veilfire, thankfully. Avexis wasn’t sure she would be able to handle the eerie blue light on top of the huge cabinet on the back wall in combination with the bones in a scattered pile, or the glowing circle of glyphs on the raised dais in the center of the floor.

Cautiously, Avexis traced the remains of the designs etched and drawn into the cave floor. “They were trying to attract spirits,” she whispered. “A summoning circle, like that in the Harrowing Chamber back in the Circle.”

“Correction,” Dorian, true to his nature, had found a book in the cabinet and already was several pages in. “They were trying to cure Tranquility. These are their notes.”

“The message Senior Enchanter Wynne sent to Montsimmard said that Pharamond managed to attract a demon, and it… cured him,” Vivienne confirmed, face guarded. “Did the fools that set this up try the same?”

“But this isn’t blood magic,” Avexis frowned, “This is…” her words trailed off.

“These are ancient Elvhen glyphs, meant to attract spirits, not their darker reflections, and… protect them from outside influences,” Solas supplied easily. “It seems they sought a pure spirit, not a demon. They were trying to prevent corruption.” He pressed his lips together, as if trapping further words behind them.

“Did they succeed?” Cassandra sounded desperate. Avexis closed her eyes, understanding all too well the Seeker’s anxiousness.

“It is… unclear,” Solas’ words were slow, and he frowned, nodding towards the small piles of bones and skulls. “It wasn’t blood magic. But those do not look like they died and fell, either. They were gathered together, out of the way.”

“The ritual notes only claim that they have seen no sign of interest on any spiritual level,” Dorian supplied, flipping through the small book to the end. “And… the entries stop there. Blank pages at the back.”

Avexis stood and turned, slowly, surveying the room as a whole. “They left their notes behind. They wouldn’t have done that if they weren’t…”

“If they weren’t dead,” Cassandra clenched her fist.

“I could ask the corpses,” Dorian offered, setting the little bound book of notes back down on the shelf.

“Do it,” Avexis ordered, the scar on her forehead bunching as she frowned deeper. “We need to know if the cure is viable and repeatable. Not to mention finding out how these people died…”

Cassandra shivered, “I don’t think… ugh.”

“Disdain all you like, Seeker, but my way gets results,” Dorian argued.

“It’s not that,” the Seeker shifted uncomfortably. “It’s just that I… dislike tombs. And bodies.”

“Squeamish? You?“ Dorian lifted an elegantly plucked eyebrow. “Truly? And you a member of the Nevarran royal family?”

“I’m not squeamish. I had a bad experience with a possessed corpse, when I was young. It… looked at me - marked me apart, by Nevarran tradition. As for cultural stereotypes, you’re Tevinter,” Cassandra shot back, “And yet you still disapprove of blood magic. Do not judge us all by our country of origin.”

“That is logical,” Dorian’s eyes sparked, “After all, if we were all representative of the worst our homelands had to offer, then the Inquisitor would be scrubbing floors in the daytime and slitting shem throats on the side.”

“Don’t push me,” Avexis’ voice tightened with strain, “I’ve got a floor right here that could use some cleaning, and a roomful of shems - minus Solas. And I’m armed to the hilt, Dorian. Cullen insisted on giving me his dagger.”

“He wished to protect you,“ Cassandra flushed in the torchlight, “That’s… sweet.”

“Ugh,” Avexis grunted, rolling her eyes.

“Bella donna, did Cassandra give you permission to make that noise?” Dorian smiled disingenuously “I am relatively sure that she owns it.”

Avexis merely glared, “Can we get back to the ritual?”

Vivienne waved her hand and some of the dust gathered around the glyph blew away into the corners of the cave. “I would say they succeeded and took the pertinent notes with them.”

“Why haven’t they shared their success, then?” Avexis asked, slow and careful.

Dorian snorted, “Does the Southern Circle allow ambition, bella donna? A cure for Tranquility would be - is! - the find of this age. It’s been done once, but without successful repetition…” He waved his hands gracefully over one of the skulls. “Give me a minute, and I’ll find out.”

“Their results would be considered inconclusive without appropriate trials,” Solas summed up, pushing himself up on his staff.

“And they’d make far more of an impact on College leadership if they kept their findings… private, until success was proven.” Vivienne admitted, clearing more of the glyph on the floor, and directing the dust and dirt at Solas. “They would need to publish, eventually, to be recognized for their hard work.” Solas created a barrier, and the dirt fell to the ground as it collided. Vivienne hummed with approval, and the two created a flurry of sparring and housekeeping.

Avexis tilted her head sideways, stretching her neck, “Not enough of the College left, to do much publishing.”

“Not now,” Vivienne cautioned, “But in time…”

“There we go,” Dorian sighed with smug satisfaction. “Now, my friend, how did you die?”

“I’m dead?” A breathy voice asked.

“Dead as can be,” Dorian assured her - it - Avexis shook her head, confused about the pronouns. “Why did you die?”

“Possessed,” the spirit hissed. “Anger. Anger, Rage… not like this! How could they do this!”

“Ah,” Dorian said simply, and released the spirit, placing the skull with respect next to the pile. “No point keeping that one around. Not unless we wanted to slay some walking dead. Veil‘s too thin to risk her trying to bring her friends over.”

“Try again,” Avexis urged, her eyes sunken. “Maybe another…” She looked sick, “No… don’t bother. I think I know why they’re dead.” She took a deep breath. “Think Avexis,” she told herself fiercely. She knelt back down and retraced the same lines she had before, pressing her finger deeper. “This wasn’t a research project - not for the sake of research, anyway. This was…”

Solas rummaged in his waist pouch and drew out a small book and stub of pencil, and began to sketch. “The mages in charge had a personal attachment to a particular Tranquil,” he murmured, almost too quietly to hear. Avexis snapped her head back to listen to him, nodding in encouragement, and his eyebrows lifted, perhaps in surprise at her attention. “Once cured, they may have been… disinterested in providing a cure on a grand scale.”

Avexis nodded, face stricken, “And if they were unsuccessful, they were unable to continue trying, because of the ocularum. There weren‘t enough…”

“Lack of test subjects,” Dorian muttered, green even in the golden torchlight. Vivienne took a shuddery breath. “The Venatori had hunted the Tranquil into scarcity.”

“That’s despicable,” Cassandra’s lip curled. “Dooming them to death like that… for one person?”

“Would Regalyan have done any different, had Andraste not intervened on our Herald’s behalf?” Vivienne countered.

“Yes,” Cassandra answered immediately. “He would. He was at the Conclave, going through proper channels…”

Avexis stood, coughing, as the bile rose in her throat. She backed away from the gylphs, her last memory of Regalyan‘s face in her mind, kind and concerned. “I… I need some air. I’ll… be just outside.”

The other three mages exchanged looks, until Cassandra grunted, and without speaking followed her out.

Legs shaking, Avexis leaned against the entrance of the cave, her torso heaving. Cassandra‘s step warned her of her presence. “Would he have done differently, Cassandra? If the Conclave had failed, or if I was deemed unsuitable… If he wanted me cured as badly as Vivienne suggests…”

“He would never have resorted to trial and error,” Cassandra repeated with confidence. “He loved you, but he wouldn’t have sacrificed other lives to his goal.”

“Are you so sure?”

“I loved him,” Cassandra said softly. “I know - knew him. Better than anyone else, I believe. He was unerringly honest, and upright. It… was his best quality.” Her face softened, “His conscience spoke far louder than mine ever has. He wouldn‘t ignore it for something like this. Vivienne is wrong. She didn‘t know him - not like we did.”

Avexis reached out and Cassandra stared, and then took her hand. “You’re right. Galyan wouldn’t do something like this. I’m just…” she shook her head. “Vivienne knows just how to rattle me.”

“You’re too close to the subject,” Cassandra said. “I know Galyan. Whichever mage was responsible for this, it wasn’t anyone we know.”

“Should we… try to find them?” Avexis asked low as the Seeker pulled away, and folded her arms over her chest defensively. “Try them within the Inquisition?”

“If Dorian finds answers, yes,” Cassandra’s voice grated with confidence and outraged justice. “They should be held accountable. People died.” Avexis turned to re-enter the cave, and the Seeker caught her arm. “Don’t go back,” she advised. “Let Dorian take care of it. I don’t… I don’t want to upset you.”

Avexis half-smiled, “I can help him, you know.”

“Help him the next time,” Cassandra recommended. “This… this might…”

“I’m not hearing demons,” Avexis almost laughed. “I’m… sad, but I’m all right, Seeker. Whatever Vivienne insinuates, Galyan wasn‘t involved. I have more faith in him than that.”

Cassandra snorted, “Stay and keep me company then. I don‘t want to go back inside that… sepulcher.”

Avexis hesitated, but nodded, “Very well, Cassandra. Tell me again about how you met.”

“Ugh,” but Cassandra smiled fondly. “We were so young.” Her silence drifted out into the desert. “No. I won’t. He’s with the Maker. Best to… let him rest - especially since the Veil is so thin here.” She cleared her throat, and wiped her eyes. “Too much dust,” she muttered.

Avexis relaxed against the side of the cave. “Don‘t you think it‘s time to let him go? He never stopped loving you, but he wouldn‘t want you to cling to his memory. You aren‘t… comfortable with the dead, Cassandra. He knew that.”

Cassandra merely nodded, as the shadows finally reached both of them where they stood. “We should leave shortly. We need to get to camp before it’s full dark.”

Avexis shook her head, “No, let’s head for Griffon Wing. I… I think I’d rather have walls tonight. Might help keep the ghosts out.” She glanced back down into the cave. “They’ll have booze, too. I don’t know about you, but I want a drink. As soon as Dorian is done, we’ll leave. Maybe Viv will want to walk the battlements to look regal against the sunset and we can push her off. I hate it when she talks about Galyan. She’s always so… nasty.”

As if summoned himself, Dorian marched up, rolling his shoulders. “In the confusion after their restoration, they were slain by the demon called through. The spirits - Solas says that they were corrupted because the glyph was missing an active symbol that would have preserved them. He‘s still in there, cursing the ignorant fools.”

Avexis shivered. “And the demons? What happened to them?”

“Destroyed,” Dorian sighed, “By the group of mages attempting the ritual.” He touched her sleeve gently. “Sorry, gorgeous girl. I don’t think we’re any closer to understanding why the Cure worked for Pharamond, or what happened to you.”

Avexis nodded. “It’s all right. Let’s get going.”

“Solas is going to stay behind and set wards,” Dorian pulled a face. “He wants to sleep here, see what his dreams tell him.”

“Better him than me,“ Avexis shuddered, “Thanks for the warning.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C'est remarqueable. - It's amazing.


	39. Varghest, Punches, and Bad Poetry

“Get back!” Avexis’ voice cut like a whip. Blackwall was attempting to flank the varghest. “Honestly, Blackwall, what about ‘Don’t draw your weapon’ don’t you understand?” The sand he had kicked up while trying to be subtle about it was drifting into the varghest face. “He can _smell_ you coming!”

“I beg pardon, milady, but I‘m not going to…”

“Just back up! That‘s an order!“ The varghest bucked under the magical restraints Solas had bound him with, but slowly, given Dorian’s Slow magic. “Please put him to sleep already!” Avexis called out.

“I’m trying!” Dorian was casting again and again. “I’m not an unending well of mana, you know! I have limits, hard as it is to believe!” He braced himself against his staff, shoulders heaving with effort.

“Just keep casting,” Cassandra gritted her teeth, shield at the ready.

Cole was at Avexis’ shoulder. “He’s sleepy, but he’s unhappy. Too scared to sleep.”

“Can you do anything, Cole?”

Cole frowned, “No, but Sera can. Maybe.”

“Not getting anywhere near that lizard,” Sera sniffed. “Dumb idea, ain‘t it? Just kill the thing.” As he retreated, Blackwall grunted in agreement.

“Then hand the flask to Cole!”

Sera frowned, ready to deny the request entirely, but Varric walked up and held out his hand. “Give it here, Buttercup.”

“Whatever,” she pulled the vial out of her belt and slapped it into Varric‘s palm. “Don’t say I never gave you anything, thing.”

“Thank you,” Cole beamed, Sera flipped him off, but he merely dropped into stealth behind the creature. Avexis narrowed her eyes to see him better. She could have sworn that the spirit-man was… cooing? At the varghest?

Avexis closed her eyes, praying that the varghest wouldn’t break through. “Come on,” she hissed. “Come on…”

Cole dropped the vial and a dark cloud engulfed the creature, obscuring the spirit-man from view. He reappeared by her shoulder. “I’m sorry. It didn’t work, and I can’t make him forget. He’s just angry now.” The spirit warned. “He’s so angry…”

“It didn’t do anything?” Avexis despaired, watching the varghest strain.

“Sleep won’t work,” Varric sighed. “Nice if we had known that from the start, Ladybird.”

“I’m not psychic, Varric. If the varghest doesn’t tell me, then I don’t know!”

“Force?” Bull asked. “I could knock it out, if I get close enough.”

“Fine,” Avexis gave up. “Don’t kill it, even though I‘m sorely tempted to do just that after this fiasco... Solas…”

“I am fine,” the elf assured her, too complacently. “Proceed.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bull wandered up like he was going to have a nice conversation and the varghest snarled wordlessly at him.

Avexis concentrated, one last desperate attempt, “Sleep!” She projected the thought at it. “We want to move you, that’s all!”

“I really don’t think yelling at it to take a nap is the way to go, Ladybird,” Varric noted, wryly, as he aimed Bianca.

_Mine. Mine. Leave!_ The varghest lashed out, breaking Solas‘ bonds, the magic backlash knocking the mage off his feet.

“Inquisitor!“ Solas yelled, just as Avexis blocked the attack with her strongest barrier yet.

“That’s more like it,” Dorian’s voice shook, as he replaced Solas‘ containment with a static cage. “Nicely done, bella donna.”

“Can’t hold it forever, lightning doesn‘t do anything to these guys,” Avexis warned, “Take him out, Bull!”

Instead of Bull, however, Cassandra marched up to the varghest, snarled at it, and then balled her fist and punched it sideways, a perfect right hook. “That’s for being an idiot,” she told it, as she clasped both hands together and brought them down on its stunned head. “And that’s for the soldiers you’ve singed.” She spat on it. “And that’s because I think this is the stupidest thing we’ve ever done, and it‘s all your fault.”

“That’s saying something,” Varric quipped.

“Why does Cass always get to do the punching?” Bull sulked. “I want to hit something, too.”

“Giant, two camps away. It‘s all yours.” Avexis hung her head between her legs, bracing herself on her knees. “Crap, that barrier…”

“Where’d that come from?” Dorian enthused. “You’ve never…”

“I don’t know, but it was green, so it was probably the mark, not me.” Avexis shook, and coughed. “Anyone have any water?”

Cole handed her a skin, and she sipped, slowly. “The soldiers are impressed,” Cole smiled. “The varghest will be happy.”

“Let’s get it moved!” Cassandra ordered. “Before it wakes up. If it wakes up.” She narrowed her eyes at the twitching creature, “Bull, you get to punch it next.”

“All right!” Bull bounced on the tips of his toes.

With difficulty, the Griffon Wing crew loaded it into a net, and hooked it to the back of a wagon. The horses stamped and blew out through their noises anxiously, but Avexis calmed them. “You know where to go?” She asked them. They sent her pictures of an oasis not far away. “Perfect.” She stroked their noses, and gave them an apple each. “Thank you.”

Cassandra unsheathed her sword. “Bull and I will escort the damn thing.” She eyed Avexis, “You should rest. We‘ll be back as soon as we can, and head back to the fortress together. Don‘t you dare leave without me. You don‘t look like you have enough mana to light a candle at the moment.”

“I don’t?” Avexis thought for a moment, strangely dizzy. “I’ll wait right here, then.”

“Good,” she eyed her carefully and then turned, and started to give orders.

Avexis merely slumped to the ground, breathless and relieved. And then started laughing. “You punched a varghest,” she called after Cassandra. “I’m not going to forget!”

The Seeker’s normally proud shoulders hunched, the only outward sign that she heard the cackling.

_< EotD>_

Griffon Wing’s shadows stretched out long as the sun set over the fort, its sunbaked stones glowing orange. It was beautiful, Avexis thought to herself, if you weren’t looking at the pissing contest going on front and center.

The noise pulled everyone’s attention away from the desolate beauty of the area.

Cassandra glared at Knight-Captain Rylen, where he leaned back against the wall of the fortress‘ courtyard, the half-smile on his face unintentionally riling up the Seeker even further. “Cease your incessant whining. You should be thanking her. The varghest are removed to a different oasis, thanks to the Inquisitor, and none of your men are injured - mortally. And now you have only to haul the water you need.”

“That’s not the story I heard, I heard my gratitude should be directed to someone far less… unusual.“ Rylen’s eyes twinkled, “And I’m thankful, I assure you, Inquisitor, Seeker. It’s just… saving varghest, when we should be marching towards Adamant? Forgive me, but I question your priorities. We’ve had scouts go missing, and morale is bad enough without having to take the local wildlife into account.”

Avexis winced, “I’m just trying to save lives. And I‘ve written to Josie - a better chef should be here any day. Surely meals will help the morale problem.”

“Don’t mind me then,” Rylen winked, “I’m just a grumpy bugger. You‘re in charge, Inquisitor.”

Cassandra snorted, “Obviously.” She clutched her bag a little closer. “I’m going to go find my tent.”

“Allow me to escort you,” Rylen grinned at her. “Right this way, Seeker Pentaghast.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I can find the way.”

“But would you deprive me of the pleasure of your company?”

“Ugh,” Cassandra rolled her eyes. “Very well. Show me. Now. I want to get out of this armor and rinse the sand off…”

“There’s something I’d like to see,” Rylen arched an eyebrow at her.

Cassandra colored. “Nevermind. I’ll find it myself.” She marched off - up the stairs.

Rylen chuckled, and shook his head, while watching the Seeker‘s backside.

“Knight-Captain?” Avexis inquired, trying to be professional and shoving down her amusement at her dear friend. He dragged his eyes away, looking contrite.

“Nothing, it’s just… she’s going the wrong way. We’re bunking you lot in the lower levels - it’s cooler down there in the shade.” He scratched under his helmet. “Hard to sleep, otherwise, with the heat. Thought you might like the break, after camping in this sandpit.”

Avexis eyed him, then smiled, “Well, that gives you another opportunity to chat her up, when she gets back, doesn’t it?” Rylen’s eyes flashed to her, alarmed, but she waved him down, “Knight-Captain, I’m seeing the Commander. If there are fraternization regulations in the Inquisition, everyone is breaking them, from the top down. I won‘t judge.”

He cleared his throat, “I’m… glad to hear it. You’re her… friend, right?”

Avexis laughed. “On my better days, certainly.”

“Do you think… she’d be interested?”

Avexis eyes went wide, and it was only with extreme self-control that she managed to control her glee. “Oh, yes. Absolutely. I don’t suppose you know any poetry? Naughtier the better.”

Rylen groaned. “Oh, Sweet Maker. I might make a passable limerick, every once in a while…”

Avexis smiled, “I know your options are limited out here, but think flowers, poetry, candles…”

Rylen cleared his throat, “We have one out of the three. Candles,” he clarified.

“It’s a beginning,” Avexis dropped her bags, rifling through the spare alchemy materials. “Here, then.” She handed him a packet of dried Crystal Grace flowers. “Find her tent, and sprinkle them inside while she‘s washing. Can’t risk lighting a candle in there, but… she’ll appreciate the gesture. She prefers roses, but those aren‘t any good in alchemy, so I don‘t carry them with me.”

Rylen’s hand tightened around the packet. “Why?”

Avexis raised an eyebrow, “Does it matter? Everyone has a favorite flower.”

“No, I meant, why me? Why are you willing to help me out?”

“You asked? And why not you? You have a cute accent, you have tattoos - there‘s a story behind those, there always is - and you’re interested. Not to mention you hold a rank - I can‘t see her going for an untried recruit or a scholar, however fond of poetry. She‘d like to think there‘s a chance you could kick her ass in a fight, before she takes you down a peg.” Avexis coughed, “I hope you don’t mind ending up on your ass. Cassandra‘s version of romance always ends with her on top. Fair warning.”

Rylen blinked, “I’m also a Templar. I got the impression that you aren’t overly fond of those.”

“On the contrary.” Avexis leaned in and shoved his helm down. “Write to the Commander and ask how fond I am of Templars. You’ll probably see him blush from halfway across Orlais.”

Rylen chuckled and shook his head. “You’re good for him. I‘ve never seen him so…” he shrugged. “You know.”

“He’s good for me, too.”

He blinked down at the wrapped packet in his hand and then looked up. “I guess I should start writing then. This might take a while.” He looked doubtful. “I don’t suppose you know a rhyme for varghest? Pest? Guest? Messed? Confessed?”

_< EotD>_

 

“What is this shit?” snarled Cassandra at Avexis as she entered the tent, her hair damp with washing. Flower petals were strewn across her bedroll, with a folded letter mid-pillow. “I have to sleep there! Were you mixing potions? There‘s a table for that!”

“No, and it wasn’t me,” Avexis clarified, glancing down at her dispatches with a credible attempt at professional demeanor. “I believe you have an admirer, Cassandra.”

“Don‘t be ridiculous,” the warrior snapped. “We don’t have time for…” she picked up the letter, and unfolded it, and her cheeks pinked. “Oh.”

Avexis glanced up, but said nothing.

“Um,” Cassandra refolded it hastily. “It’s from… no one. Be still.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Avexis smiled, “But no-one has lovely handwriting. A Chantry scholar, perhaps?”

Cassandra rolled her eyes.

Avexis glanced up, “Did they sign their name?”

“They did.” The Seeker’s voice was curt. “Drop it.”

“Oh, so now we aren’t butting into each other’s love lives?” Avexis laughed, “How refreshing.”

Cassandra snarled and pulled Varric’s book out of her bag. She settled down on her stomach to read, but unfolded the letter instead, slipping it between the pages and re-reading it on the sly.

“Your neck is red,” Avexis added innocently. “Do you need some aloe?”

“Ugh.” Cassandra flushed a deeper red. “He-”

“He!” Avexis let herself smile, “So the pool of candidates is cut by half. Tres interresant.”

Cassandra whacked her, but her heart wasn’t in it. “Shush. I’m reading.”

“What did he write?”

Cassandra touched the page gently. “I wouldn’t have thought he‘d attempt…” She frowned, “Perhaps Josie had the better idea after all. A library would be beneficial here. It’s good to have something to read when…”

“Too late,” Avexis sighed, “The chef is on his way. From the Knight-Captain’s native Starkhaven, even.” At the rank, Cassandra started. “Cassandra…” she teased, knowing the answer, “Is that from the Knight-Captain? Really!” She feigned surprise. “Rylen is full of surprises.”

“I…” Cassandra stammered, and narrowed her eyes. “Forget you know this about me.” She folded up the letter again.

“I won’t tell a soul,” Avexis promised, but she leaned forward, “Tell me what he wrote.”

“It’s not very good, but he tried,“ she colored, but unfolded the letter and read, overly quiet, even given the thin walls of the tent,

“‘From Nevarra comes a Seeker fair,

A lovely braid twined in her hair,

I am forced to part,

With her romantic heart,

While she goes and punches a bear.’” She pressed her lips together. “I’ve never punched a bear, but then again, I suppose he couldn’t think of a good rhyme for ‘varghest’.” She paused, “I would have chosen ‘blest’, myself.”

Avexis bit her lip, sucking hard to keep from laughing. “It’s… sweet. But you have punched a bear, you know. Twice, in the Hinterlands. I was there. Tres impressionnante.”

Cassandra hit her, a little harder. “Stop.”

“Ow!”

“Don’t make fun of him.” The Seeker ordered. “With the proper encouragement…”

Avexis raised an eyebrow, smiling, “What are you thinking?”

“I’m going to have a few books forwarded to our good Knight-Captain.” Cassandra tucked the letter and her book under her pillow. “That’s all.” She hesitated, “You don’t know where I could get a copy of ‘Carmenum di Amatus’, do you?”

“You want to send him _that_ book?” Avexis giggled. “I think Dorian found a copy in the library. He greatly approved. I haven‘t seen it since. I think he might be reading it to Bull.”

“He would,” Cassandra’s voice was disgusted. “Still… maybe I can get another, if he won‘t part with it…”

“You could just recite it.“ Avexis struck a noble pose, her hand over her heart, and declared, a little too loudly, “’His lips on mine speak words not voiced, a prayer / which travels down my spine like flames that shatter night / His eyes reflect the heaven’s stars, the Maker’s light…” Cassandra grabbed at her and tried to cover her mouth. Avexis dodged, laughing the rest of the words out, “’My body opens, filled and blessed, my spirit there/ not merely housed in flesh but brought to life.’ Now there‘s a poet who never had to find a rhyme for ‘varghest‘. Do you think ‘varghest‘ is the same word in Tevene as Common? It is in Orlesian.”

“Where did you learn…” Cassandra flushed, hissing, “That book is banned!”

“It’s not like Montsimmard was particularly sheltered, Cassandra. We had a fine library, and the White Spire had just about every book you could wish for, and a few you wouldn‘t. I read the ‘Carmenum’ when I was… thirteen? The Orlesian translation, naturally. I memorized the Common when I was sixteen. You know my tutor was a pervert.”

Cassandra groaned. “Just… don’t recite anymore poetry. You’re terrible at it.”

“Here lies the meek Herald of Andraste,” Avexis giggled, “Doomed by her Seeker friend to never utter another single line from the Chant of Light. May the Maker forgive her for missing services.”

“UGH!”

 


	40. Reunions, Priorities, and Backfiring Tactics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready for Adamant? :D

Their reunion wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough to make up for two months of absence, but given the limitations… Cullen knew he should be thankful for what they had. They stood facing each other, the black walls of Adamant Fortress looming over them, the shadows from the siege equipment dividing them as if the Abyssal Rift itself separated each from the other.

By the time Avexis had arrived with Rylen’s reinforcements, Cullen’s head and heart pounded in time with the adrenaline and sounds of the battle. He restrained himself from grabbing her in his relief at she had arrived safe and sound, limiting himself to an unprofessional glare and a pair of fisted hands, full of his worry. He winced when she recoiled, and he tried to soften his face as he flushed. “Inquisitor, it‘s good to see you…”

“Commander. How are… things?” Her hands fiddled with her gauntlets, but she met his eyes, her brow furrowed with her own concern. For him. As if there was any reason for her to worry about when she was the one who had to…

He coughed a laugh and tried to answer, “Better, now you and Rylen are here.” He waved her forward and pointed. “We’re about to breach the gates. The trebuchets have done their job, and we’ve sappers. The walls should go down any time.” He turned to her, desperate for her to understand everything he wasn‘t saying. “We have reason to believe they’ve already began the ritual, despite the army at their gates. No time to delay.” Time spent with her wouldn’t be wasted, but they didn’t even have a moment for everything he wanted to say.

A hundred inappropriate words warred with each other in his head while he fought a hopeless battle to keep them back. Later, Maker willing, he promised himself.

“Merde,” Avexis whispered.

“Yes,” he agreed, glancing at her companions. Cassandra scowled at him, and he took the hint. “We don’t have much time, but… you are well?”

Avexis lifted a shaking hand and touched his arm. Suddenly, his ’better’ morphed into truth. He was better, with a touch of her hand. “I’m well. We’ll talk - after?”

“After,” he smiled wide. “After sounds… perfect.” His voice broke, his worry over her welfare weakening him far too much, apprehension warring with the picture of her in his mind from his dreams. Somehow the cacophony of the battle beat in time with his pulse. He tightened his shoulders, to prevent pulling her into an ill-advised embrace, there in front of everyone…

_Don’t let her die_ , he ordered the Maker. _She can’t. We need her. I… need her._

“Then I’d better get in there and put a stop to this madness,” Avexis braced herself, but didn‘t withdraw her arm. “Did Anders meet Hawke?”

“Hawke and Fenris are on the battlements with Anders. She requested him particularly, I didn‘t see any reason to split up a team that works so well together,” Cullen confirmed, “There’s a lot of resistance up there. Pride demons. They could use assistance, if you can manage it.” To their right, the doors of the fortress breached, into a thousand sad splinters.

“I’ll go,” Varric volunteered. “No point in letting Blondie and Broody have all the fun. Such as it is,” grumbled the dwarf. Glancing at him, though, Avexis could tell how excited he was to see his friend again.

“Pride demons,“ Avexis shuddered, “I hate those things. We‘d better move out.” She grasped at the Commander’s forearm. “Please be careful, Cullen.” She tried for a smile. “I still haven’t heard you cuss, yet?”

The use of his given name in such a situation made him squint against sudden tears, “You, too, Ladybird.” They nodded at each other, and he watched her trot towards the broken gates, heart breaking along with them.

It was getting too hard to send her into danger. One of these days she might not come back.

He had lost too much already. He couldn’t lose her, too. “Don’t let her die,” he whispered aloud. “I can’t. I just…” he closed his eyes and tightened his fists again, determination welling up from somewhere he didn’t understand. Perhaps it was Andraste, bolstering his will. “Give me strength,” he prayed, and turned away, to shout the necessary orders. “Protect the Inquisitor!”

 

_< EotD>_

 

As they trotted away, Avexis wouldn’t allow herself to look back. If she did, she wouldn’t be able to control herself. Her friends weren’t helping, Sera making inappropriate noises, and Dorian fanning himself, and muttering about the allure of command.

 

“You should have kissed him,” Cassandra fumed. At her elbow, Knight-Captain Rylen chuckled. “You haven’t seen him for months, and… you were so cold!”

“We’re about to take a Warden fortress, Cassandra,” Avexis protested, “It’s hardly the time or place for public displays…”

“I agree with the Seeker. The Commander could have used a demonstration of certain affection. Man‘s too wound-up.” Rylen glanced upward at the fortress above them, eyebrows raised, “Though he’s done a bang-up job breaching this place. Couldn‘t have done it better myself. Shame to break his focus with sweet nothings and tender moments.”

Cassandra’s voice, stiff and controlled, pushed out a single question, “Don’t you need to stay with the Commander, Knight-Captain?”

Rylen winked, “Not until the Inquisitor releases me, Seeker Pentaghast. Until then… behind you is as good a place as any. Best view in Thedas.”

“I know, right!” Sera enthused from behind them all.

“Ugh,” Avexis stifled a grin at the Seeker’s unconvincing disgusted noise. She glanced back, just to confirm the blush, and the not-quite-angry expression.

Through the gates, Avexis glanced around them. “There,” she pointed. “I’m going up to the battlements. Solas, Vivienne, Blackwall, Bull, Sera - go see if you can cause some mayhem in the main Keep. Distract them from summoning the fucking demon, if you can. I’ll be back, as soon as possible - I‘m counting on you to thin out the resistance for me. But for now, I’m headed up.”

“I’m with you, too,” Varric reminded her. “Hawke’s up there. Not gonna let her get chewed up and spit out.”

“Got it, Saare-Boss,” Bull confirmed. “We’ll see you in a bit then.”

“Blackwall - try to convince some of them to walk away. The fewer we have to fight, the better,” Avexis added, “We need Wardens, if there’s ever another Blight.” She shivered, remembering the archdemon. The noise of the battle reminded her vaguely of Corypheus’ dragon… and she shivered, hoping she was wrong.

“Too right, milady,” Blackwall lifted his chin. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Send Varric and Sera through first, to scout,” she warned. “Bull - don’t charge without getting an idea of the layout.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved her on. “Not my first fortress, Boss. Let me do my job, will ya?”

“All of you… take care,” Avexis stressed and turned away.

The battle blurred before her eyes, countless demons falling before her. Normally she would have been excited to fight alongside the Champion. But today - today was different. From the battlements she made her way down to the main courtyard, killing only those she must - too many, to her way of thinking. Her eyes hurt with trying to see the dark red of blood in the light of the moons, and her head ached with trying to ignore the possibilities that it offered.

It was such a waste - both sides of her whispered the same thing, for far different reasons.

The ritual was vicious, and cruel, and watching old men and young women offer themselves as sacrifices, hoping, somehow, that they would be able to stop the Blight itself by dying… “Wardens are insane,” she said out loud.

“There is only the Blight, for them,” Cassandra urged her forward. “Say something. Stop them.”

Nothing she said helped, but Hawke spoke, and Stroud, and Blackwall, as he rejoined her group, arguing with all of them. And finally, a few voices agreed, and backed off. Not enough, and not soon enough to matter. They were losing everyone…

Then a bitter argument enjoined between the asshole Erimond and Clarel, a moment where the woman seemed to waver, just long enough to hope she was swayed, but then… “Bring it through,” the Warden Commander ordered as Erimond smirked.

“MERDE!” Avexis screamed, furious. She flung herself into battle, knowing her skills were largely useless against Pride, and trying to concentrate on barriers and the lesser demons, so that she could protect those that were left. She couldn’t cast the barriers quickly enough, and her heart sank as she realized that in this, once again, she made no difference. More people fell to Pride, and she had to dodge the bodies littered around the courtyard as she ran towards Clarel.

The Warden Commander stared at her as she approached, intending to take the woman and her companion out herself if necessary. Erimond rose his own staff, and slammed it into the ground, babbling about how Corypheus had prepared him for her, and… Avexis nearly crumpled with the noise of the dragon - louder by far than any battle could ever be, and vibrating in her very bones. That dragon…. She stared upwards, trying not to panic, trying to get its attention instead. She stared, slack-jawed and concentrating.

“That’s an archdemon!” Clarel glared at Erimond, and took off after the dragon, running.

“Now she remembers her duty? Fuck this shit,” Avexis broke away from the Pride demon to follow Clarel. “Stay with them!” She ordered Solas and Vivienne. “Try to keep as many alive as you can. I’m going after Clarel.”

She sprinted after, barely noticing who followed. Someone had to kill that damn Pride demon, but she was the only person who could make the dragon hear her…

Perhaps it wasn’t too late. It had listened, before.

 

_< EotD>_

 

Cullen reached the Main Courtyard with a troop of his finest, just in time to see Avexis take off for the stairs and to see the Pride demon fall to Vivienne‘s blade. “Merde,” he cursed, and failed to notice his men’s arched eyebrows at his use of Orlesian. “Where’s she off to now?” He pointed at Erimond, “That’s the Venatori bastard in charge. Clap him in irons and get him out of my sight. We’ll deal with him back at Skyhold, if I don‘t beat him to death first.” His men straightened and saluted. “He’s a mage,” he grabbed one’s arm as he turned away, and narrowed his eyes. “Dose him with magebane, and keep a Templar with him at all times. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Commander!”

Cullen turned away, and shouted, “Wardens! Do you stand down?”

They didn’t answer or challenge - most of them were shaking, their eyes on the skies with the wings of the false archdemon. “I’ll take that as a yes,” Cullen snarled. “Round them up,” he ordered a lieutenant. “Don’t let them out of custody until the Inquisitor decides what to do with them.”

He marched upwards towards the roof of the fortress, eyes determined. “The rest of you, follow me!” He ordered. “We might have a dragon that needs killing. That takes numbers, not a handful of people.” He tried to steady his heavy breathing, praying that Avexis would have it subdued, like she had managed in Haven.

He reached the roof, just in time to see the archdemon - not an archdemon, he corrected himself, remembering Avexis’ assurances - eat Clarel, who was attacking it blindly in obvious desperation, even as Avexis reached out her hands toward it, saying something that looked plaintive.

Cassandra ordered her back. “Inquisitor! It’s not going to listen, you haven’t had any lyrium! You mustn’t risk…”

He stumbled forward, his foot catching on rubble, reaching forward as he called out, “Avexis, don’t! Please-” Underneath him a Terror demon popped up through the stones - no doubt a remnant from one of the rifts Avexis hadn‘t managed to seal yet, in favor of reaching the Warden-Commander. He reached for his sword, but before he could draw, it pierced his left arm. He cried out at the shock and nearly dropped his shield. Rylen flanked the enemy, and brought his greatsword down to cleave it at what passed for the demon‘s shoulder. On instinct, he tried to Smite, but the ability fizzled. “Knight-Captain!” His voice was hoarse, but Rylen’s Smite connected, and the demon shredded into nothing.

Cullen crumpled, blinking and shaking, but focused only on one person. “Avexis…” he called out, louder.

She turned to face him. “Cullen…” she stepped towards him, turning away from the dragon. “Cullen, you’re…” her face was white, worried for him… his eyes widened at the sight of the dragon behind her, and he opened his mouth to warn her…

Without Avexis to attempt to soothe her mind, the dragon roared, and lunged forward, intent clear. Cullen felt the entire fortress rock under his body. “Get back,” he ordered weakly, staring at her in despair as the dragon spat red lyrium in Avexis‘ direction. His body wouldn’t move - Cassandra was too far from her to shield her… “GET BACK!” He yelled, trying to drag himself upright. Rylen, Stroud, and Fenris heard him and stepped back towards the mediocre support of the stairs, pulling him with them. He fought against their help, too weak to overcome. “AVEXIS! Stop! Please…” She was too close to the edge… “The sappers, they’ve undermined the whole structure! It’s…” it was too late, he knew, hearing the groaning of the stones, cursing his tactics in the hindsight of the result.

Understanding dawned on her face as a chasm opened beneath her. Her lips framed his name, but he couldn’t hear anything over the noise of the fortress falling away beneath her.

He saw her fall, taking several others with her in an eerie green glow that he recognized all too well. The bloody dragon flew away, unharmed, spitting at the remaining soldiers. “Merde,” he whispered, slumping broken against the battlement, hope draining away. “Not again. Maker, not again!” He slammed his head backwards, relishing the point of pain.

“No!” Fenris fell to his knees, “No, Hawke - No!”

The Champion was lost too... Cullen closed his eyes, tight with denial. “It’s too late,” he barked at the elf, bitter in his pyrrhic victory. “They’re… in the Fade. The Inquisitor opened a rift.”

“ - but she got back out once.” Rylen’s voice shook. “She has the Seeker with her, she might be…”

Cullen tried to struggle to his feet, but they weren‘t responding, not like they should… “The rift in the lower courtyard. She’ll aim for it, if… she can. It‘s our only chance.”

“No!” Fenris snarled at him blindly. “No! Hawke…” His face crumpled in denial. “She has to come back. If she doesn‘t come back-”

“Commander,” Rylen’s brogue was thick with fatigue and grief. “Commander, you’re wounded.”

Cullen glanced down at his arm, the fabric of his coat glossy with dark red blood. “That explains a lot,” he managed, just before the world fell sideways, and he knew no more.

　

_< EotD>_

 

Avexis opened her eyes and promptly, shut them again. She must have hit her head, she justified, and made herself take three deep breaths before she tried again. This time she stood, tearing her hand on a jagged rock and trying to resign herself to this dream. The small cut whispered to her of power, and she rolled her eyes. She wasn’t tempted that easily. Not after being bathed with the stuff during the battle.

But it was rather loud for such a tiny wound… no doubt a product of the dream itself.

The battle… there was no sign of a battle here. Around her, the Fade, so thick with magic that she could taste it, spread off into the far distance - the Black City ever looming. She sighed, and tried to jerk herself awake.

“You’re not asleep, and I don‘t sleep at all!” Cole whispered at her elbow, his arms across his stomach, bent over as if the spirit starved. “I shouldn’t be here, not like this!”

“It’s the Fade, Cole,” Avexis stretched, “Of course I’m asleep. It’s just a dream. Maybe Cullen will show up in a minute and this dream will get far better.”

“I beg to differ,” Dorian spoke. Avexis blinked at the oddity of where he stood - and how. He was pressed up against what must look like a cliff to him, a tiny little ledge outcropping barely large enough for his feet the only thing stopping him from falling. “If we are asleep, and Cullen shows before I wake up, this is going to get far worse. I definitely don‘t want to see what you‘ve been doing to the Commander in your dreams, if you can say that so nonchalantly. You should know better than to give into Desire demons, Avexis,” he scolded.

Avexis didn’t bother to try to explain to the spirit taking Dorian‘s shape, preoccupied with where, and how, Dorian was standing. The little ledge wasn’t strange. The odd thing was that he was standing sideways.

“Definitely a dream,” Avexis muttered, mind whirling with confusion. The addition of Cole was odd, she’d never heard of a spirit taking another spirit’s shape, but… she concentrated on Cullen, and how much she wanted to be near him, exerting her willpower to try to change things.

“He’s not here. He‘s hurt,” Cole reached out and touched her, and she shocked him hard enough to make both of them jump back. “He‘s there, and you‘re awake.” Cole frowned at his hand. “You sting when I touch you here.”

“I think the Chantry owes me an apology,” Another voice, this one from… above? Avexis leaned back, craning her head back to see the Champion hanging upside down from the roof of a vast cavern, just behind her head. “This is nothing like the Maker’s bosom.” Not far away, a head popped up, laughing at her comment, and Anders appeared, drawing his hair back to keep it out of his face and tying it with a piece of frayed string. They were at least aligned the same way - though, to Avexis’ perspective that was… upside down? Anders’ hair wasn’t hanging in her direction, though… how did gravity work here?

Aside from her childhood dreams of flying, she’d never had a dream that defied gravity.

“And how do you know what the Maker’s bosom looks like?” Dorian snarked back, now dangling sideways off his little cliff. “Having naughty dreams about someone other than your Master Fenris, Lady Hawke? Tsk, tsk, tsk, such a waste.“ He closed his eyes and let go, only to have the floor - Avexis shook her head, not believing what her eyes were telling her. It looked like the ground had cushioned his fall.

He rose, dusting himself off briskly. There was no need, as the dust floated away from him. Avexis blinked in disbelief. “Maybe this is how Vivienne stays so impossibly clean,” Dorian jested, catching her eyes.

“I always figured it was willpower,” Avexis managed feebly.

“You’re not wrong.”

“You’re alive,” Cassandra stumbled over to her from where she had been sitting. There was a small rip in her under tunic, and the sides of the gash were stained. It looked like she had applied a poultice to a wound, bound with her belt. Avexis glanced back up at Hawke, who was now attempting to jump high enough to make it to Avexis’ version of the ground, Anders’ amusement notwithstanding. “Thank the Maker…”

“Quit laughing and give me a boost,” scowling, the short Champion moved into a crouch, and assisted by her brother in law, leapt up to reach a jutting rock, and started to scale the wall Dorian had been suspended on a moment before, her muscles flexing under her tight armor as she crawled, headfirst.

“Andraste’s Tits, you’re heavy,” Anders grunted, and she kicked at his head. “Ow!”

“Never say that to a lady, ass.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if I ever meet a lady.”

Cassandra reached Avexis, and cupped her face, relieved, repeating, “Thank the Maker. When you didn‘t wake up, I thought… I couldn‘t find a wound but that didn‘t mean…”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking, Seeker,” Hawke grumbled, and reached down towards them, “A hand, if you please?” Cassandra reached up, and as her fingers touched the other woman, Hawke fell, the air around her cushioning her fall, just as it had for Dorian, but this time, she dragged Anders down with her. “This is… quite a trip. Fenris is going to be furious that I fell when he…” She tugged her leather armor down. “He’ll get over it. I hope. If not, maybe he‘ll be over the worst by the time I get back. Shit, I‘m going to owe Varric a bottle of whiskey, just for dealing with him.” She looked worried for a moment. “Maker’s Breath, they’re both going to kill me.” She blanched, and clutched her stomach. “Shit. Fuck it all to the VOID.” She bent over sideways, and vomited onto the green stones.

It seemed a logical reaction to the situation. Avexis rather wished she could do the same.

She had never had a dream that caused her to want to vomit before, but this certainly qualified. “You’re all… here? In my dream?” She laughed, “Okay, I’m going to have to ask Solas about this now. Officially the strangest dream I‘ve ever had.” She glanced around, waiting for the apostate to show up. “Where is he? Not like him to miss a party in the Fade.”

“It’s not a dream,” Cassandra turned back, “What do you remember?”

“The Commander’s sappers did their job too well. The fortress crumbled under the weight of the dragon, and we fell…” Avexis’ eyes went wide, “Are we dead?” She stifled a keen. “No, I can’t be dead. Cullen…” she grasped at Cole. “You said Cullen was hurt. Is he…”

“He’s alive,” Cole whispered, looking sad. “Many aren’t.” Avexis closed her eyes in a mixture of grief and relief.

“We’re not dead. Not that I can tell,” Dorian broke in cheerfully. “I’m a bit of an expert on the dead. Pulse, check. Breathing, check. A million and one scrapes that are still oozing blood, check. The dead don‘t bleed for long, bella donna. They go all stiff and blue - hardly takes any time at all, in the scheme of things.”

Cole blinked, “I don’t breathe, Dorian. What’s a pulse?”

“You bleed. You have to have a pulse for that,” Avexis managed.

“Well, the jury is still out on Cole,” Dorian summed up, “But that’s not surprising, given… everything.”

“So… you opened a rift,” Hawke said curiously. “You saved our lives from death by gravity, and brought us here?” The rogue seemed to be trying to process their situation, as she uncorked a waterskin and brought it to her lips to wash out her mouth. “I guess I owe you my thanks.”

Anders snorted, his silence saying enough about their predicament. Avexis was inclined to agree with him, all things considered. “No thanks necessary.”

“You opened a rift and we fell through it,” Cassandra scowled in accusation. “We are physically in the Fade.”

Avexis swiftly denied, “No, that’s not possible.”

“It’s happened before, back at the conclave,” Dorian pointed out. “And you are making rather a habit of impossible things happening to you, gorgeous girl.”

Avexis looked around her, alarmed as she realized, “If… this isn’t a dream, then… we’re in horrible danger.”

Cole nodded, “Yes.”

“Are we going to be darkspawn?” Avexis fretted, turning to Cassandra. “The Chant says…”

“Not unless we reach the Black City,” Cassandra drawled. “Galyan always said the Black City never got closer, in the Fade.”

“That’s comforting, except that no one has been in the Fade physically for ages! The rules might be - different here.” Avexis drew a shaky breath. “What can we do? How do we get back?”

Cole frowned, “Someone’s coming.” Anders shuddered, making a involuntary noise of protest as he glowed. “Justice…” the boy-spirit mumbled in awe at the blue light surrounding the healer.

“Compassion,” the spirit rumbled, disdainfully, and looked around, with Anders’ eyes tinted blue instead of brown. Avexis shivered. “This is… unexpected.” Cassandra drew her sword, but Justice looked at her. “There is no need for that, Seeker. I am… home.” Anders’ body shivered, and the spirit emerged.

Anders crumpled to the ground, panting. “Andraste’s Knickerweasels, Justice, you could have given me some warning!”

“Warning was unnecessary. You should have realized what I would do, once I returned.” The spirit glided towards the near distance. “There are others,” it said.

“Yes,” Cole whimpered. “Demons and… one other.” The spirit-man covered his ears with his hands and hunched down, eyes wide. “The other is first.”

A man in a Circle robe with shoulder length dull brown hair threaded through with silver, his eyes creased with kindness and laughter rather than age, stepped out from behind a slab of rocks - rocks with a table haphazardly stuck to one side. “Cassandra! Avexis! You‘re here!” It blinked, and smiled. “Avexis - did you change your hair?” 

“Galyan?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love playing with the Fade based on who goes, and who stays behind. I've yet to write a canonically compliant version.
> 
> Keep that in mind when we post the second chapter on Thursday, and try not to hate us...


	41. Old Friends and Older Nightmares

“Galyan?“ Avexis stopped herself from running towards him, supporting herself on one hand on a low stone as she stared… “It can’t be you. I saw your body, Galyan. You’re…” She clutched the amulet around her neck tight enough to dent her hand. The spirit wasn’t wearing one like it…

“Galyan is dead,” Cassandra choked. “Begone, demon. You cannot tempt us.”

“That’s Galyan?” Dorian asked, in disbelief. “Cassandra, I thought you were a romantic… his hairline‘s receding.” Avexis and Cassandra pinned him with near identical glares - differing only in that Avexis‘ hair sparked dangerously, lifting up with her innate electricity. “But bald is beautiful,” he held up his hands, “Who am I to judge?”

“Cole, can you tell what… that is?” Avexis asked, her voice shaking.

“He’s Faith,” the boy said quietly. “Faith that touched her, touched you both. Restored what you needed, what they took. Faith in the unseen, unfelt, unknown. Now you see, feel, know.” Cole frowned, “Cassandra, you’re thinking about Galyan. About when you…”

“Be still,” Cassandra blushed. “That’s… private, Cole.”

“He made you happy.”

“Yes.” Cassandra covered her eyes.

“Why is that sad?” Cole asked, confused.

“Faith,” Avexis blew out a breath, not ready to try to explain anything to Cole about the facts of life. “What is your purpose here?”

“There is a demon waiting for you. You trespass upon his domain. He stole things you needed. In order to escape, you must recover what you left behind.”

“I didn’t leave anything…“ Avexis shared a glance with Dorian, “Are you talking about… my memories?”

“I couldn’t restore them, when I restored you. The demon held them too tight, and they are yours,” the spirit with Galyan’s face drifted over and touched her forehead. Stunned, she failed to flinch away. His - its - hands were warm. “You’ve made better ones, now. Your… Cullen. His faith is strong. It saved him in Kinloch, and started him on the path of healing in Kirkwall. Even now, he knows you’ll return. You always come back to him. It seems the whole world longs to bring you home, now, Vex.” Galyan’s face was tender, “But even before the conclave, I wanted you back.” It traced her scar, gently. “I could heal this now. There’s more time.” His voice was gentle, touched with humor, as Galyan’s always was.

He shifted his head to glance at Cassandra, head tilted slightly to the left to meet the Seeker‘s eyes. “I was never much of a fighter, was I, Cassandra? But I can heal, a bit. This scar would be no trouble at all.”

Cassandra paled, “Maker preserve me. You’re not him.” Her voice tinged on the desperate. “Don’t mock me, demon. You‘ll never be him.” She reached for her sword, hand tremulous.

Avexis stepped back twice, “Leave the scar. It’s mine. It reminds me of what I got back. But you… you mean that Galyan wanted the Cure for Tranquility? For me.” Her words broke.

The spirit inclined its head, smiling cheerfully. It was hard to remember it wasn’t him. That it couldn’t be him. “Of course I did. I wanted it, more than anything. Didn’t you realize? That was why you were speaking to Revered Mothers. They were going to evaluate you, to determine whether or not you could be restored, if the cure proved viable. I had to believe you would be fine - even knowing what it could cost. I wanted to fix my mistake.” The spirit lifted a heavy eyebrow above those grey eyes, calm and amused. “You know it was a mistake now.” He laughed, “What a relief.”

Cole muttered, “Torn, pulled between two people. Her life, her decision - so many decisions made for her. Hate that dickhead, isn’t good for her. Can’t say, can’t tell her, has to make up her own mind - so permanent… there has to be a better way. Can’t transfer to Ferelden - still broken from the Blight. Can’t transfer to the Marches - Starkhaven burnt, Kirkwall is going mad. She won’t leave me, won‘t see the rest he‘s keeping on the side. Maybe Dairsmuid? They would understand her, there.” The boy lifted his face, so that his eyes, wide and blue, focused on Avexis, wide and scared. “Here there be dragons.”

“What?“ Avexis shivered. “Cole…” her voice trailed away, unable to ask the obvious question.

“You can hear it, now that you‘re listening.”

And she could. Not so far ahead, a dragon - larger and louder than any she had met yet - roared its hunger into the Fade air.

“Now you understand,” The spirit raised its arms and Galyan’s face dissolved into a shimmering gold outline, transparent and ethereal. “It is Fear, it is Hunger. It is Nightmare. It has grown fat on the fears of the world since time began. It wants yours. You have so many. It has taken this shape on purpose - to feed on you, Inquisitor.”

Her title sounded wrong in Galyan’s voice. But he used it proudly.

Somehow that hurt more than anything, the thought that Galyan would be proud of her position, of what she had accomplished, had he lived...

“Fasta Vass…” Dorian murmured. “I think it’s saying that this one isn’t really a dragon, bella donna.”

“You think?” Avexis tried to snark, but shook instead as she lifted a hand to her head, ears filled with painful wordless roaring. “I… won’t let it in.”

“That is easier said than done,” the spirit gestured regally towards a far distance, filled with upside down stairs and paths that twisted sideways along the walls. In the distance the Black City rose pointed spires upward, and to their left a river ran vertically, straight up from the random puddles at their feet to an upside down ocean far overhead. “You must regain your memories. You need them to be whole. You need them to understand, to defeat Corypheus. To find them, you must get closer to where it waits. First the little fears, easily defeated…”

“Easily, it says,” interrupted Dorian. “Forgive me for being skeptical. If there‘s one thing I‘ve learned through fighting endless rifts, Fear is a pain in the…”

“…And then the larger Fears. I will help you.” Galyan’s voice cut through Dorian’s obscenity, with a touch of disapproval. Avexis fought the urge to laugh. It was so like him to try to censor… she blinked away sudden tears. She kept forgetting it wasn’t him.

“Faith tempers Fear. I’ll help too,” but Cole’s voice was small. “It… it can’t hurt me.” He sounded unsure, however.

Avexis, with a glance at Cassandra’s bleak face, nodded, and moved forward. “I… thank you, spirit. Let‘s go, if we must.” She glanced up, to see the rift at the top of a set of incomprehensible stairs with no supports underneath. “I think we must. We can‘t fail here. All those people are waiting on us.”

“Lead the way,” Hawke waved her forward, irony in every line of her body. “I see no reason to linger. The whole neighborhood‘s gone downhill.”

They hadn’t traveled very far, before Avexis froze, her eyes wide and large, at the scene playing out before her, like an Orlesian opera, or Tevinter theater. “Mon Créateur,” she whispered.

Before her, two forms twisted around each other, one blond and tall and the other petite and brunette. They writhed, panting, and the larger thrust the smaller against the rocky wall, moving against her with a demand that didn’t need explaining, her mage robes hitched up past her thighs.

Hawke drew her daggers. “Get that Templar away from my sister!” and launched herself at the forms, driving her knives deep, and making the creature taking Cullen’s form shriek and turn on her with a obscene distortion of his face.

Avexis only whimpered and backed away. “It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real…”

“Of course it’s not real,” Dorian slammed his staff down against what was passing as the ground beneath them, setting off a fire spell that torched the figures, and made them lose their shape. They morphed into the fear spirits that they were more familiar with, and that knocked her out of her stupor and into something close to her usual fighting form. The demons, weakened already, fell, the first to her arcane bolts, and the second to Cassandra’s sword. Dorian faced her, one eyebrow raised, “I hope you realize you’re awake now. Picture poor Cullen with other women often in your dreams, do you, Avexis?”

She stammered, “F-fuck you, Dorian.”

“That’s better. Didn‘t peg you for a voyeur.”

Hawke sheathed her daggers, stalked up and shoved Avexis against the wall. “Did Ser Cullen ever fuck my sister?”

“NO! He’s never been with a mage, not even…” she colored and couldn’t continue.

Hawke blinked, and stepped away. Avexis shifted down the wall again, willing her legs to hold her up. “What, really? He hasn’t… really?”

“They haven’t,” Dorian replied dryly. “They are… waiting for something. Maker only knows what. A miracle, perhaps. They might get their wish, if we can get out of here in one piece. Ah, sweet romance.” His arms folded over his chest defensively.

Hawke looked at Cassandra for additional confirmation, who looked considerably better since she had run something through, nodded. “That is my understanding, yes. As if any of us can count on tomorrow in this age.” She glanced at the spirit and then dragged her eyes back forward. “Idiots.”

Hawke shook her head, and rested her hand on Avexis’ shoulder, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me… I was so scared of that rat bastard Alric hurting her in the Gallows… one of the best days I had in Kirkwall was the day I ran him through. I should tell you about Fenris’ version of a relationship sometime. We went through three years of on-again off-again, with him constantly claiming ’I am yours’, even while he’d never stay the night. Most of the time I wasn‘t even sure he cared… It might make you feel better about being… patient. It took the Gallows for him to decide that he couldn‘t live without me.” She snorted, “I knew long before that. Ass.” She tugged down on her leathers again. “But he’s my ass.” Her voice wavered.

“No harm done,” Avexis whispered, standing more upright. “I suppose… I suppose there will be more like this. We should all be on our guard.”

Dorian’s lip curled, as he nodded into the near distance. “Quite. Like right now. Who in the bloody Void is that supposed to be? Don‘t tell me I‘m supposed to recognize them?” The sound of a slow dripping permeated their surroundings, echoing off nothing at all.

Two men, one older, but the other nearly his twin in everything other than age, stood side by side, hands dripping with blood nearly black in the green light that surrounded them. Avexis stared at the fingers, and tried not to listen.

Why did everything have to be so loud in the Fade? The copper smell of blood swirled around them, strong enough to taste.

“You’re nothing like your father,” Cole appeared behind Dorian. “That’s not who you are.”

“I know,” Dorian’s jaw was clenched, but he seemed to be having trouble manifesting his spells, his focus shot. “I know. I’m… better than this. I know.”

Nauseated, Avexis cast a static cage over the two figures, and stepped away. “You… should take this one,” she told Dorian quietly.

Dorian closed his eyes and two balls of flame spat out of his graceful hands, lighting the demons aflame, and sending them running into the walls of the static cage in panic, where Avexis’ glyph finished them off. “Thank you,” he told Avexis, his eyes lined with bitterness. “I…”

“I know,” she turned away. “It’s… hard to hurt a demon that wears the face of someone we love.”

“I don’t…” Dorian started to protest, but didn’t finish, staring at the faint smudge of ash on the rocks where his father used to be.

Avexis touched him gently on the shoulder, and he flinched away. “It’s okay that you still love him. No one expects you not to.”

Cassandra seemed to be next, but she, at least, had no trouble running through the demons that smirked at her, making a mockery of Galyan’s face, telling her that he had never loved her, and then another, older man in Seeker armor who told her there was nothing she could do about her brother‘s murderers. There was a third, but it flickered amorphously, making it impossible to tell who, exactly, it was trying to be while it laughed at her.

“They lie, they lie, they lie,” Cole whimpered, rocking with his arms around himself. “He loved. That is truth. You don’t have to look for it. He was true. He is true.”

Cassandra patted him on the shoulder, “It’s all right, Cole. I… know.” She looked back at Avexis, self-conscious.

Hawke, troubled, slit the throat of a tall, white haired elf who told her that he had made a mistake, after all. That he couldn’t love - couldn’t live with someone who didn’t think mages were better confined. Avexis watched Hawke be sick again, at the appearance of a wisp-child, who screamed at the top of its lungs before Cole ended it swiftly, turning towards her with compassionate eyes. She held up her hand afterward, shaking, and shook her head when Cole approached. “I… I’ll be fine. Believe it or not, I‘ve been through this sort of thing before. This is… worse, but I know what to expect. Friends betray you in the Fade.” She glanced at Anders, and then away.

Anders’ face was closed, but he eyed her carefully, his eyes calculating.

“It was too close. ‘I thought you would understand not wanting to be a slave,’ you said,” Cole murmured from a distance. “But he did understand. He stayed. He’s waiting now, with your sister. He can‘t go home. Nothing‘s worse than living without you. He wants this. All of it. Both of you, once he knows… He‘ll understand, he just needs time.”

“We don‘t have three years,” Hawke choked. “Maker… what if…” she didn’t have to finish the sentence, and buried her face in her hands. “Please, give me a moment. I can‘t go on right now.” Cole reached out to hug her and she leaned up against him, dry-eyed but hollow with despair.

An archdemon soared over them, and Anders - showing unusual agility for a mage - leapt upward off a craggy cliff, blasting it with a single spell, his ethereal companion so close behind that they overlapped on the edges - but the spirit wielding a greatsword instead of the staff. Avexis couldn’t hear it - and that was the only sign that it wasn’t a true archdemon. In the distance, a demon with far more power bellowed through her mind.

“Little fears,” was all that Anders said, his face stiff, as if he was insulted. “That was no true archdemon. I haven‘t been afraid of darkspawn for a long time.”

“Maybe not,” Hawke breathed normally, though her eyes were red, “But you looked very pretty up there.” She leaned in, “Bethany would be impressed. I‘ll be sure to tell her what a hero you are.”

Anders actually laughed, and then creased his forehead as he wandered off. “Let‘s just make sure we get home so that she can coo over me. I could use some pampering.”

“She’ll yell at you first, I hope.”

“Nah, that’s Fenris’ way. I‘ll get hugs first, and then a slap upside the head while she tries to feed me up.” Anders cast his eyes sideways at her. “You feeling okay?”

“Nothing left to heave up, at least.”

“Don’t be so stubborn. I’m a healer. I know what’s going on. If you need some help, I can… there are options, you know, if the elf is that much of an idiot.”

“No. At least… at least this discomfort is real. It‘s grounding me. We‘ll… talk later. After… he doesn‘t know yet, Anders.”

“Fucking Void, Hawke…”

“I know, Anders. I know. I was… am… scared.”

Avexis faced the spirit of Faith, confused, and determined to ignore the friends’ whispered confessions. “I… don’t see the point of fighting all of these. We‘re not making progress.”

Faith gestured towards a hidden nook, “There. That is your goal.”

Avexis drew her staff and stepped towards the nook. Inside was what looked like a tiny rift, not much larger than her hand. The mark sputtered as she neared, and connected, her mind filled with a dozen confusing images, that overlapped to make one whole picture.

_Another Avexis, placid and dull-faced, but with eyes focused and precise, stepped into a room at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. “What’s going on here?”_

“Fasta Vass,” Dorian said somewhere outside her field of vision. “It’s her memory. It’s what happened…”

“Be still,” Cassandra hissed.

_A black ball was dropped in shock at the interruption, and she stared at it for a second, as it bumped her foot. She bent, and picked it up in her left hand, and stood up, seeing the impossible. A group of Warden mages held the Divine, bound in red magic. Corypheus stood just beyond, “Kill the Tranquil,” he ordered._

_The Divine, her voice broken in desperate pain, called out, “Go! Warn them…”_

_“You’re Grey…” Avexis the Tranquil started, and then, the orb exploded into a burst of green light, and she disappeared from the room, and the scene shifted._

_The two women, Divine and Tranquil, appeared in the middle of their current landscape, Avexis trying to support the older woman. The woman collapsed, her face slack, and was consumed by a golden spirit - much like the one accompanying them - the wisp of it heading directly into her chest._

_Avexis the Tranquil merely continued, as if she didn’t notice anything wrong. She helped the Divine-Spirit to her feet. Once stable, the spirit reached out and touched her head._

_The Chantry sunburst seal disappeared from her forehead in a swirl of blue and golden magic, as the spirit-Divine held fingers to her brow, calm and determined, even as a host of demons clamored around the corner. Avexis saw herself gasp a deep breath, stare at the spirit in horror and… was that wonder? It was strange, to see her own face animate from within. The screams of demons pierced her awareness, and she shoved the Spirit-Divine in the direction of the stairs they were trying to reach. “Allons-y!” Avexis screamed at her, and they took off at a stumbling sprint._

_There was an impression of her running further than it seemed at first glance, Fear spirits chasing her wearing Pierre‘s face, but with dragon wings lifting them into the air, and a bizarre feeling of déjà vu encompassed Avexis, as the two companions struggled to reach their goal - a rift at the top of a set of impossibly steep stairs. “Hurry!” The Divine called, as she slipped. Avexis reached out her right hand, her face desperate and worried, but fell short, as the Divine was jerked back out of her reach by the demons that claimed her. “Go.” The Divine whispered, and then fell, into a shower of golden light. The demons disintegrated against her barrier, but the spirit fell, all the same, face serene._

The mark’s connection with the memory dropped abruptly, and Avexis was thrust back into their current version of reality, gasping and teary-eyed with shock. “The Divine… she…”

“She gave her life for yours,” the spirit agreed. “She agreed to let me… use her body. To restore you. To save everyone. She chose, and so I chose.”

“Why?”

“Galyan and the one you call Justinia believed in you.” The spirit looked around, eyes lighting on Cassandra. “So much Faith here.”

“Faith tries to make a friend of Compassion,” Cole whispered, and the other spirit nodded in understanding.

“Divine Justinia…” Cassandra whispered at last. “She saved you?”

“It wasn’t Andraste,” Avexis realized, eyes wide. “It wasn’t…” she choked, “I’m not the Herald of anything.”

“Was there any doubt?” snorted Anders, eyebrow lifted.

“I hoped.” Avexis turned her face away. “My life - it’s nothing but an accident. I should be dead, or still Tranquil.”

“Bullshit!” Cassandra unsheathed her sword and marched up to the spirit and poked it in what passed for its chest. “You restored her from Tranquility. It was unnecessary to delay her flight through the rift. You could have both made it through, had you not cured her. Why? Why did you do it?”

“The Divine willed it. Your Galyan willed it, as his spirit passed through here.” The spirit turned towards Avexis, who sat down in a puddle of dubious water, and curled up her legs. “You wished it - we have a connection, you and I, though you are unaware. And she - just before the Rite - she willed it as well, knew she had made a mistake. You all believed it possible, had faith it would somehow happen. I can‘t act without your Faith. It feeds me, as the fears of the world feed the Nightmare.”

Cole rocked, panicked, “It’s cold, so cold it burns, hurts, sears across my head. Frozen thoughts. What have I…” he stopped, “Nothing,” he whispered. “After that there was nothing.” He stumbled towards Avexis and picked up her hands. “You’re here, now,” he told her. “Brighter than stars. Warmer than wool. Flying higher than any raven. Stronger than a dragon. You’re you, again. Herald means ‘Bringer’. You’ve brought so much. Don’t give up. I can talk to you. I can’t talk to just anybody.”

Avexis focused on him for a moment and flung her arms around his shoulders. “Cole…” He held her, her eyes open but unseeing.

“We need you,” the spirit whispered.

“Fuck this shit,” Cassandra snarled at the spirit.

“You used that as your mantra, when Faith made you what you are.” The spirit morphed into Galyan again. “He thought it was funny, but it worked. It calmed you, when you were troubled. It inspired you to greater things than your Order demanded. It saved a Divine once, and when you gave yourself to him for the first time, it gave you the bravery to come back again, to believe it was possible to love him and be loved by him, regardless of the rules.” The Galyan-Spirit reached out his hand and touched her cheek. “He loved you. Believed in you. Knew you were always right.”

Cassandra choked, “Then why…”

“He didn’t want you to leave. He was on the verge of a major discovery, one that would lead to his independence. He had worked all these years, planned and hoped. You were going to be together. Finally - he only waited for the College’s confirmation hearing to tell you… And then you argued, and left. This time you didn‘t come back. He knew he was a fool. He hoped you‘d return, as the Circles fell around him. He waited for the Conclave. With peace, perhaps he could fix what happened. If he could correct his mistake, bring her back then… you‘d come back to him. He wanted to make everything right. He waited, patiently. He was very good at patience.”

“No!” Cassandra snarled. “No! You lie, demon!” She raised her sword to the spirit‘s neck, but hesitated at Galyan’s face, and her arm fell. “No. He didn’t wait. He hated me. He hated everything I had said…” her sword dropped from her hand. “Maker, forgive me. Galyan, forgive me.”

“He didn’t think there was anything to forgive. You were right, Cassandra. He was wrong.”

Cassandra collapsed to the rocks beneath her, and wept, soundless, gasping sobs beyond emotion, her eyes unblinking, chest heaving. Avexis let go of Cole, and he stepped toward the Seeker, blue eyes wrinkled at the corners.

The spirit lifted its arms, and morphed back into gold. “They come. You must keep moving.”

Cole reached out his hand, and Cassandra took it, reluctantly allowing the spirit to help her up, shoulders shaking. “We cannot beat this,” Cassandra whispered.

“You can. Have Faith.” The golden spirit said simply.

“How can you ask that?” Dorian asked it, confused. “After what you’ve told us about a Nightmare feeding off the world since time began… the logical thing to do would be to give up. Andraste isn‘t even with us.”

“It’s not a question,” Cole protested. “It’s an offer. Have Faith.” The spirit-man’s eyes glowed.

“You want to help us?” Avexis wiped her face and tried to focus. “You want to help us get out of here?”

“I do. Have Faith.”

“I accept.” Her voice was strong and determined, and she straightened, rolling her shoulders. “Any help you can give us. Please, help us.”

“Avexis!” Cassandra scolded. “If you risk this… it‘s possible to draw attention from spirits.”

“It’s had every chance to hurt us, Cassandra. Do you really think Faith would fool me so easily?” Avexis shook her head, “No, Cole could tell if it was corrupted. It’s not.” She turned back to the spirit, her face shining, “Besides, Cullen believes. Maybe with his faith, it will be enough to bring us home. There are worse things than holding the regard of a Faith spirit.”

“You believe too. Not in yourself, or the anchor, but deeper,” Faith told her, gently. “You believe that it will be well. That you were restored for this.”

“I’m trying.”

“That’s enough. Others believe, too. That you’ll save them all. The fighting is over, and they’re praying, waiting for you. They give me the strength I need.”

Avexis shut her eyes, trying not to think about the Inquisition’s faith in her. Cullen’s alone was nearly too much to grasp. “I… know.” She opened her eyes, “Help us, please.”

“I will do everything I can.” Around the corner the roaring increased, and the spirit glowed a little brighter. “Have Faith.”

They turned the corner, and the spirit disappeared into a glowing wall of protection.

They fought through the Fears of the Nightmare, Hawke blocking one from reaching Anders when he slipped against the sight of a Templar coming at him with a raised gauntlet. They fought as the dragon roared beyond the barrier Faith had sacrificed itself to provide.

The Fears fell, and they ran for the stairs, Hawke bringing up the rear.

The barrier dissolved in a shower of broken stars, and the Nightmare dragon moved forward. Avexis whimpered, involuntarily, but took a step forward. “I’ll… hold it off,” she whispered, preparing to open her mind to what it was trying to tell her. “I’ll distract it. No one else can do that. So… go! Go now!” She shoved at Cassandra blindly, and the other woman fell through the rift, reaching back, face furious at the betrayal. “Go, Cole, take Dorian!” Cole nodded, his eyes bright under the hat and barreled into Dorian’s chest, knocking him backwards, even as the mage started to protest.

“You’ll never survive,” Anders told Avexis, his chest heaving. “Leave me. It was Wardens that started this - and I’m not much of a Warden - but I can buy you enough time to get through.” He faced Hawke, “Tell Bethany that I love her.”

“No,” Hawke elbowed him out of the way and the slight man staggered back. “I’m not going to let her be alone - not again! I’ll stay…”

Anders snorted, “And have Fenris disembowel me at the first opportunity? If you don’t think I’d prefer a fast death to seeing my heart beat in your lover’s fist, then…” He gasped, his whole body arched, and Justice emerged once more.

“This is my home,” the spirit proclaimed. “Leave the Nightmare to Justice, Inquisitor. He‘s earned me.” The spirit turned hollow eyes upon Avexis, who shivered, and nodded. “Take Anders back to Bethany. She doesn’t deserve to be widowed,” he intoned to Hawke. “You go - you need to live for the innocent you carry. This demon is mine.”

Hawke nodded, and awed, helped her brother in law to his feet, and backed towards the rift. Anders reached out, “Justice… I can’t keep going, not without you.”

“We‘ve achieved our goal. I am more hindrance than help to you, now. I was selfish. You never needed me, I always was the one that needed you. The Inquisition needs you, Bethany deserves a husband that hasn’t forgotten himself. You will not forget me, Anders. That is enough.”

Hawke pushed at Anders, the man’s mouth open to protest further, and they disappeared through the rift. The spirit turned back, and gleamed bright, a throbbing pulse echoing through Avexis’ bones as Justice put up barriers and protections she had only read about in ancient Circle tomes, long ago. “Leave me, Inquisitor. And thank you for bringing me home.” The spirit threw itself off the stairs onto the back of the demon, stabbing with an otherworldly blade through the eye of the would-be dragon.

Avexis found her strength, and turned, walking through the rift, and feeling herself tumble through to the other side of chaos and confusion.

She landed on one knee, tearing her leather pants and the skin on the other side, and stood, with difficulty - the blood this time nearly silent compared to the roar of her pulse in her ears, and the echo of Justice‘s foreign feeling power. She reached out, and began sealing the rift behind her automatically, the noise echoing in her ears and through her hand as it snapped shut, and the power whiplashed as the connection was severed, staggering her momentarily. She broke into a sweat in the dry heat of the late morning, and breathed dust and grit from the barren, unmagical desert air.

She was back. And it felt like being smothered.

Adamant hushed with her reappearance, quiet enough for her to hear her own blood whispering as it dripped from her knee. She closed her eyes, and whispered, “Fuck this shit,” and laughed, hysterical.

Anders choked, “Justice! You left him… you left him behind?”

“He’s got a better chance at winning over that… thing than the rest of us,” Hawke told her friend. “Come on. Bethany’s with the camp healers. She’s going to want to look you over.” She lifted him up, and settled him over her shoulder.

“I can walk, Hawke,” Anders insisted, feeble and still trying to stay put. “You’re the one that needs medical attention…”

“I needed medical attention something like two months ago. It will wait for a bit longer. And I’m not going to let Bethy yell at me when I tell her that you’ve lost Justice forever. That’s your job. You’re in shock, whether you realize it or not.” Her mouth twitched. “She needs to know that you’re still in one piece.”

Anders choked back a sob, “I’m not. I’m half of what I used to be.”

“Maybe…” Hawke sighed, “Look, it’s hackneyed as shit, Anders, but maybe it’s time to find yourself again. Justice was right, you almost lost yourself. Maybe you did. You still love her, right?”

“Yes.”

“So that was you, then. Good. Fenris might not disembowel you, but I would, if it turned out not to be real. Bethy deserves love. That‘s you, for both our sins.” Hawke smiled and winked, directing him towards the front of the keep. “And I like to be different. Now, I’m the only Hawke with a glowy lover. I’m going to have to find a whole new arsenal of insults for arguing with her.”

Avexis propped herself up against the wall in the courtyard, staring out with haunted eyes at the dozens of people surrounding her, still laughing breathily at the idea of Cassandra‘s mantra. “She came back,” murmured one of her scouts, and it rippled into an echoing litany. “She’s back.” “She came back - again.”

“Inquisitor!” That was Cassandra, marching towards her, and a slap rang across her face before she was pulled into an embrace more restraint than hug. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“Unlikely,” Avexis whispered, eyes still wide with shock, but now touching her cheek and breathing more normally. “Did everyone…”

Rylen appeared, clearing his throat, “Losses weren’t… as heavy as could be expected, Inquisitor. Hawke did a lot of good with her friends on the battlements.” Avexis nodded. “However,” he exchanged a glance with Cassandra, “However, the Commander was injured, just before you - fell.”

Remembering Cole’s words, Avexis pushed herself up. “Where is he?”

“The rest of the reports…” Rylen stammered, stalling, and shuffling a stack of papers in his hands.

“Will wait. Where is he?” Her voice broke. “Dites-moi!”

“With the healers and surgeon…” Avexis turned and marched in the same direction as Anders and Hawke. Rylen hurried after her. “But there’s the Wardens to consider… with Corypheus…”

“Leave her,” Cassandra’s voice was soft. “I’ll assist you, Knight-Captain.”

“But what of the Grey Wardens?”

“Let the decision wait,” Cassandra ordered. “She needs to find the Commander.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dites-moi - Tell me.


	42. Blood Loss and Hairy Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's only very slightly NSFW towards the end. A matter of skipping a few sentences, really.

Cullen was laid out on his cot, eyes closed when Avexis entered the smallest of the healing tents, following the healer. “He’s lost a lot of blood.” She eyed Avexis dubiously, “You don’t have any healing skills, do you?”

He looked smaller than he should, pale and almost delicate. Avexis choked, “Precious few, I’m afraid. Better at alchemy, but…”

The woman sighed, “Same old story. We’re up to our ears in helpful alchemists, but only a handful of healers - and the word is one of them isn‘t as good as he used to be. Go on then. Make him drink this, if he wakes,” she thrust two potions towards her. “Don’t worry, we’ve had our orders from Healer Bethany. No blood lotus or lyrium. Just elfroot.”

“He’s going to wake up?” Her voice sounded desperate, and completely unprofessional. She couldn’t bring herself to care. “He’s going to live?”

The woman snorted, “Of course he is. Crazy bastard of a ex-Templar didn’t realize that he couldn’t Smite like he used to. Sent himself into shock, after a Terror’s claw ripped open a minor artery. He passed out with blood loss. He should thank the Maker for making his first children with such rotten aim. If that claw had hit something worse…” She softened when Avexis choked. “There, now, he’s all right. We took care of it before he bled out. He’ll be right as rain in a few weeks, as long as he stays hydrated, and eats a proper diet, and takes his medicine.” She sniffed. “I’ll leave you alone. Got other patients to see to.”

The two small vials clinked in her shaking fingers as she made her way to the head of the cot and settled down on the floor, her knees tucked under her, muscles and ripped knee protesting such abuse. “Mon Cré ateur, Cullen,” she whispered. “What did you do to yourself?” She lifted her hand and brushed the hair out of his eyes, and then fingercombed it back entirely, knowing how he hated to have it obscuring his vision. “Imbecile… making me worry…”

He stirred, trying to open his eyes, “Ladybird?”

“Shhh,” she whispered.

“Saw you fall…” He breathed deeply, “Smells like you… honey and Embrium.” His body relaxed. “Not a demon, then.”

“Definitely not a demon,” Avexis laughed, but gently.

“What?” He managed to open his eyes, and tried to sit up, eyes hazy. “Ow.”

“Don’t move, fool,” Avexis criticized, moving to try to pin him down, but not sure where to touch as to not hurt him and so just hovering over him helplessly, until she touched his forehead and pressed his head backwards.

“Maker preserve me,” Cullen eyes started wide at the touch, but his eyelids weighed down nearly immediately. “You’re… here. Really here. Did they… give me something to make me sleep?”

“Just elfroot. Bethany made sure of it. But you‘ve lost a lot of blood, Cullen. Don‘t move. You‘ll bleed again. Terror wounds don‘t close easy.”

“Oh.” His smile was just as winning as ever. “I’m glad you’re here. You are here? It’s not a dream?”

Avexis lifted his good hand and twined her fingers around his. “I’m here. It’s real. I’ll stay, too. Until they kick me out.”

His eyes were drifting shut, “You should… sleep. Been a long day.” His chest raised and fell with his breaths, and she knew he was already out.

“It’s always a long day,“ Avexis whispered to his sleeping form. “And I’m not sleeping without you,” Avexis sighed, and laid her head next to his on the thin pillow. She watched their hands, still twisted together, until her own eyes shut, and she fell into a blissful dreamlessness.

 

_< EotD>_

 

Cullen woke, to a blonde head drooling on the pillow next to him, and a powerful need to urinate. “Ugh,” he groaned, and tried to sit up.

“Stay put!” Avexis woke in a moment, shoving her hand across her mouth. “Ugh,” she made a face. “Disgusting. Sorry.”

Cullen smiled. “You’re still here. Not a dream?”

“Not a dream.” She made a face and kissed him, making a face. “Sorry about that. Morning breath.”

“Better than no kiss,” he joked feebly. “Wanted to, before.”

Avexis grinned at the admission, “Moi, aussi. Fuck kissing, I didn‘t want to keep my hands to myself. Do you have any idea how sexy you are when you‘re ordering people around?”

“Might have helped the troops’ morale.”

“Fuck their morale, “Avexis laughed, “It would have helped mine.”

“I’m an idiot,” Cullen sighed, and reached up with his right arm to touch her hair, cupping her ear. She leaned into it. “I should have… when you fell, I thought… I thought you were gone.” He choked. “That I lost you. Lost my chance.”

“I’m not gone,” Avexis promised. “I’m here. As long as you want me or longer.”

“For always, then,” Cullen whispered, and his arm fell. “When will they let me out of here?”

Avexis shrugged, “I can try to find out. They might not tell me…”

Cullen snorted, and winced at the slight movement. “Pull rank. No one gets to withhold information from the Inquisitor.”

Avexis saluted, fist across her chest. “Yes, Ser!”

Cullen laughed, and then moaned. “I… I hate to ask, but… before you go,” he flushed, “Could you help me with the chamber pot?”

Avexis laughed, and fetched it from under the cot. “Gladly. The healers are all busy, I‘m sure.”

“This is humiliating.”

“Shh. It‘s fine.”

“Can you at least turn away?”

Avexis complied, laughing, her heart light. “For you? Anything.”

　

_< EotD>_

 

The wagon ride back to Skyhold was slow, and Cullen scowled his way through the first week of forced immobility. “They can’t do this to me,” he protested, sweating as he tried to shove his way upright, as Avexis climbed through the back for the third time that day.

“Yes, they can. Inquisitor’s orders. We can’t have our Commander re-injuring himself,” she grinned. “Besides, this way, I have you to myself… except for the driver. Special shift change, just for us.”

Varric turned, and waved at Cullen. “I’ve been bribed with the permission to use whatever you talk about in the book. So… keep it appropriate, all right, Curly? Not like you look up to much…”

“I’m up for anything, dwarf,” Cullen started to protest, and then flushed, and then paled, skin mottled. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I did,” Avexis winked, and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “Now, I have your medicine, and food…”

“I don’t need to be coddled,” Cullen grumbled, “I need to get out of here and talk to Rylen. I need to be coordinating a hundred…”

“I’m not coddling. I’m helping you. It makes me happy. Rylen and Cassandra are… handling things,” Avexis hedged politely. “They may be trying to handle vastly different things, but everything is being taken care of. It will wait for you to get well.” She unpacked a bag, and handed him a hard biscuit. “Eat this.”

He took a bite and scowled. “It’s dry.”

“Don’t whine. Biscuits and soup, until the hunting parties get back with something better,” Avexis scolded. “You need the liquid, and the biscuits are salty. You need salt, with as much as you’ve been sweating. You shouldn‘t try to move so much.”

“I don’t need a nursemaid.”

“I‘m not a nursemaid, I‘m your… lover?” Avexis countered, hesitating at the last word. “Do you want me to leave? Would you rather have Anders? Him or me, that’s your choice. He can‘t heal as well, anymore, now that…” She broke off her words, aware that he hadn‘t been completely brought up to date yet. Cullen narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“I’d rather have you,” he admitted grudgingly.

“That’s what I thought. I have my orders, Commander. I’ll let you do some work today - after you eat.”

“Promise?” His eyes were wistful, and she rolled her own.

“Oui. Maker forbid I stand in the way of your mission. Now, eat!” He sighed, and bit the biscuit obediently. Avexis hid a smile as she unpacked the covered bowl, and fished for the spoon. “I… need to tell you what happened in the Fade. It’s… a big deal.” Her voice shook.

The biscuit was already gone. “I’m listening,” his voice was gruff, as she settled the bowl in his lap, and tried to feed him. “I can do that.” He took the spoon, but his hand shook, and it spilled. “Damn it,” he scowled, dabbing at the spot ineffectively.

Avexis frowned, “Just let me.” He acquiesced, silently and grumpy. “I… know you didn’t give up on me. Cole…”

“Good,” his voice was soft now. “I knew you’d come back. I was afraid, but… I knew you’d done impossible things before…”

“Your faith brought me home,” she whispered. “And I know how I was cured. There was a Faith spirit. It restored me with a touch at the Conclave.”

“Avexis…” Cullen’s voice shook.

“Do you think I’m an abomination?” She asked him, her hair hiding her face, and letting the spoon fall back into the bowl with a small splash and rattle. “The Chantry says… and Pharamond…”

“No,” Cullen protested, and raised his hand enough to cover hers where it held the bowl steady. “Cole is a spirit - sort of - and he’s touched you more than once. You’re still you. It’s a gift from the Maker, not a curse.”

Avexis flashed a quick smile at him. “I don’t feel different, it’s true,” her voice still wobbled. “But… you needed to know.” She fed him another spoonful, hand steadier. “The Faith spirit took Galyan’s face.”

Cullen sputtered, but managed not to spit out the food. “That must have been…”

“A shock?” Avexis shivered, “I thought I had let him go, after the Conclave. I thought Cassandra was the one hanging on, not letting herself grieve, but… I was wrong.” She breathed shallowly, “The spirit told me that Galyan was trying to find a way to cure me. That his faith - and Cassandra’s, and Divine Justinia’s - drew the spirit’s attention to me. The Divine gave her life for me,” her voice broke. “It wasn’t Andraste on the other side of the rift, it was the spirit of Faith who took her body.”

“Maker’s Breath…” Cullen whispered.

“Something like that,” Avexis choked. “I remember what happened. It was Corypheus, working with the Grey Wardens, Cullen. They were torturing the Divine, preparing to sacrifice her. I picked up Corypheus‘ elven orb, and it… gave me the mark.”

His nostrils flared, “And yet you let them stay? You should have banished them… for their own safety, if nothing else.”

“Yes…” Avexis shivered. “I let them stay,” she whispered. “Because… because we have to know what they know about his plans. Stroud has left for Weisshaupt… to warn them.”

Cullen made himself relax, “Fine,” his voice was curt. “I… disagree, but I hope the information proves valuable.”

Avexis nodded sharp and quick, “Right. Thank you for not yelling. Cassandra yelled.” She smiled slightly.

“Sounds like her,” Cullen’s voice was rough, and he stared at her lips where they curled up. “Avexis…” he swallowed.

She glanced at him, and flushed, picking the spoon back up and to his mouth. “Open,” she whispered, and he obeyed. “Another thing - we only got away because Justice stayed behind in the Fade.”

Cullen did choke this time, and coughed his way free. “You mean… Anders isn’t an…”

Avexis shrugged sadly, “Justice is gone, but I don‘t think it will matter to what’s left of the Chantry. Hawke and I can bear witness, if it helps.”

Cullen frowned, “Can Cassandra? I’m sorry, but Hawke is his friend, and you’re a…”

Avexis snorted, “How quickly I’m just another mage, when something like this comes up.”

“I didn’t mean…”

“I know,” Avexis sighed, and closed her eyes for a brief moment. “I know. And you’re right. I’m not impartial - many people would consider me an abomination as well, with the contact I‘ve had with spirits. But it’s true. I swear it. Justice stayed behind, to kill a Nightmare demon for us. We owe that spirit our lives. I was going to stay, and he took my place.” She gave him another spoonful, eyes thoughtful. He glanced at her mouth again.

“Kiss me?” He asked once the bite had gone down.

“Do you know how much trouble I’ll get in if the healers think I‘m encouraging…”

“Just a kiss,” Cullen protested. “Please?”

She frowned, and glanced at Varric, who was staring forward with a single minded determination that suggested he had heard every word and set it down mentally for later. She set the bowl aside and leaned in, and pecked his mouth, once, smiling soft. Closing her eyes, she kissed his forehead, and cupping the back of his neck, she kissed him again before pulling back. Cullen lifted a shaking arm to touch her face. “I’m so glad you’re alive,” she whispered, resting her forehead against his.

“It would take more than a Terror,” Cullen protested.

“It very nearly didn’t. Terror claws are venomous and prone to infection.” Avexis frowned at him. “You should know that, Cullen. Don’t make me fetch Helisma to lecture you. Now, eat. Once you’re done I’ll unpack the requisitions I have in my bag. If you manage those, I’ll give you the scout reports.”

Cullen finished eating, and made it through four requisitions, handwriting shaky, but somewhat legible, before his eyes started to droop with fatigue. Avexis took the papers away and settled him back against the mat, stroking his hair. “Don’t leave me?” He asked, drowsy, grasping for her other hand.

Avexis hesitated, glancing up at Varric, and at the rear of the wagon, “I’ll stay,” she whispered back, with a smile, and settled herself down next to him, on his uninjured side. “I could use a nap.”

“Me, too,” Cullen agreed, unnecessarily, before he let sleep drag him under to the sound of her giggle.

　

_< EotD>_

 

She came back the next day, and he was able to feed himself, and get through the rest of the requisitions and two scouting reports before he dropped off again. This time she was gone when he woke up, but she had left the work for him.

He was grateful for something to occupy the endless hours between her frequent, but not often enough, visits and impromptu naps. He kept waking up with ink drops on the blanket from the quill.

It took weeks to get back to Skyhold, but he was able to ride the last few days, with the healer’s approval. Avexis rode at his side, talking a mile a minute, but had to leave at last, to ride ahead to consult with Josie and Leliana.

He kissed her goodbye under a tree at the edge of the Dales, and she didn’t pull away to stop him, or warn him about hurting himself when the kiss grew more heated. His hand cupped her hip and he pulled her closer, caressing her ear gently. Her body moved under his and pushed back. “Back at Skyhold…” he panted into her mouth. “Would you mind…” his eyes burned into hers. “I want…”

“Moi, aussi,” she surged back into him and he picked her up, settling her back against the tree, feeling the smooth bark of the rowan under his hand as he tried not to crush her, and ignoring the twinge of his still sore arm. “We could… now, if you want,” her voice shook, and the dappled sunlight rippled across her cheeks, as the wind rustled the early leaves above their heads. “We don’t have to wait…”

He groaned, “Don’t tempt me, Avexis. You have no idea… ever since that dream…”

“Are the dreams all right?” She asked, worrying. “It sounds like I’m going to only be in Skyhold briefly, before I have to leave again… I missed you. Can I… visit?”

“Yes.” Her mouth was hot, but his skin was hotter, burning where she touched him, pulling off his coat and dropping it to the forest floor to reach his neck, biting him. “Maker,” he moaned. “Avexis, we have to… not outside. I want to give you a bed, not…”

“I don’t care about a fucking bed,” her voice was fierce. “We’re alive, Cullen.” She caught his lower lip in her teeth and bit it, hard, before catching his tongue and curling her own against it.

He laughed, and then ground himself against her pointedly. “Keep that up and I’ll embarrass myself. The rumors…”

“Fuck the rumors. Better yet, fuck me. Here. Now.”

“Holy Maker.” He pulled back. “You have no idea how tempted…”

“Don’t I?” But sighing, she dropped a leg from his waist. “I should go… if you’re sure.” Cullen’s eyes caught hers, intense and serious, and she blinked, her own dazed and cloudy, her breath ragged.

“Skyhold,” he promised, low. “My office. First night, after I get there. Come find me, as soon as you can.”

“Swear?”

“I swear by the Maker.”

“Very well,” Avexis slid the rest of the way down, slow and deliberate, and then reached out and squeezed him. “I believe you.”

“I’m yours,” he vowed, and he watched her walk away, hips swinging. He closed his eyes, and turned back towards the caravan.

“Might want to take care of that, Curly,” Varric mentioned as he rejoined the group, nodding with longing eyes at his Ladybird as she pulled her Courser away to head directly up the mountains with the faster moving group.

“Take care of what?” Cullen asked, gruff and impatient, and trying not to flush. He thought his coat was long enough to cover…

“Your hair’s standing on end,” Sera giggled at him. “Someone’s been kissing the Quizzy. Zap!”

“Maker’s Breath!” he smoothed it back hurriedly to the crackle and snap of the static. And then smirked as the group rode away after their leader, who glanced back at him with her own sly smile when Sera nudged her, snickering.

He’d better start keeping a comb handy.


	43. Changes and Rocking Desks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not that chapter. You know the one I mean. That one will be Monday, assuming that iduna and I can make the smut readable enough. I've been working on it for months. Hopefully it's finally coming (cough) together.
> 
> This chapter is perfectly SFW.

“Well, well, well,” Avexis entered the garden, to find Morrigan, sitting on a stone bench, reading aloud to... someone that had to be her son. Avexis stifled her surprise. Mages just didn’t have children. “The Inquisitor returns from Adamant, victorious over the Fade itself.”

Behind Morrigan, the climbing roses bobbed against the gazebo in the breeze that never seemed to leave the area, even in the worst heat. She suspected it sort of swirled about the courtyard, like a dust devil without the dust. Ancient Elvhen got everything right, including just the right amount of breeze for a sheltered courtyard.

Shame they didn’t manage to block the crosswinds that rushed through Cullen’s office when both doors were opened, but nobody could say the Elvhen were perfect. Except perhaps for L’Oeuf.

“I wouldn’t say that.” Avexis folded her arms across her chest. “I barely got out alive. And we… Anders lost Justice.”

“Just as well,” Morrigan opined. “The fool had no idea how to utilize its powers. His will wasn‘t strong enough to maintain equilibrium.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your willpower, on the other hand…” Morrigan nudged her son, “You’d better get back to your studies, little man.” Her voice was positively fond.

“But, mum, I want to talk to the Inquisitor! Did you see…”

“Yes, and you heard me, run along.”

The boy dragged his feet out of the garden, clever, curious eyes on Avexis. “He’s your…”

“Yes.” It was Morrigan’s turn to sound defensive. “I know, I’m not the… motherly sort.”

“He seems bright, and healthy enough.” Avexis stifled her curiosity about the son‘s father. It wasn’t important. “Now, what were you saying?”

“Walk with me,” Morrigan ordered, and rose from the bench. “Let’s take this conversation where ears won’t hear. Leliana doesn‘t let her old grudges go easily.”

“I could have a word…”

“Don’t bother. She is not wrong to worry, she is protecting those she loves. She does, perhaps, protect them from the wrong things, but that is neither here nor there.” Morrigan allowed herself a smug smile. “We are dangerous mages, Inquisitor. And more alike than she realizes.” They reached the Great Hall and descended the stairs, walking out towards the battlements. “You know what I mean.”

“I think so. Your magic feels…”

“Familiar?” Morrigan smirked. “Yes, I thought that as well. I wonder though…” she paused as several scouts passed by too closely, and they climbed the stairs to the battlements, and turned towards the tower Avexis had refurbished for the mages’ use. “Have you ever - assumed the shape of the animals you can speak to?”

“Non!” Avexis swallowed, “Of course not.”

“You’re afraid,” Morrigan observed. “No doubt wise, Inquisitor, considering your lack of a teacher…” they reached the tower, and yet another staircase. Morrigan swept upwards, elegant in black leather, and drawing the wide eyes of every Circle mage in the room. She climbed the final ladder, and Avexis followed, blond hair whipped into a frenzy by the wind at the top of the tower. “Allow me to demonstrate.” She raised her arms and… shrank into a raven.

“Mon Createur…” Avexis backed away. “How did…”

Morrigan shifted back in a moment, one hand pressed to the stone floor of the tower. “You are subconsciously resisting the final step, Inquisitor. Your abilities… don’t you realize what they were intended to do? Shapeshifting is an ancient magic, and you barely tap your potential, babbling to animals as if they were playmates, and you nothing more than a child.”

“But the risk…”

“Minimal, for those with enough will. I spent my own childhood playing with ravens, and wolves. And…” Morrigan smiled again, “I will teach you. If you like. It will not take much teaching. You merely need to learn to let go, to appear as an animal instead of the woman.”

Avexis bit her lip, worried. “I need to think.”

“You need to act,” Morrigan took a step towards her. “You deny yourself the power your own gifts grant you, because you think your precious Chantry is right about things it does not comprehend. I’ve heard the rumors about Adamant, Inquisitor. To the most devout, you’re already an abomination, just with being touched by Faith. Fool, as if Faith was something to revile! Your bald apostate… he’s called you a throwback? He’s right, and also so very wrong. You are so much more than just another elven mage with a handful of unusual gifts. Allow me to teach you.” She narrowed her eyes, “Warden Surana was far less talented than you, and she did not refuse me.”

Avexis tried to ignore the single stab of irrational jealousy. “Warden Surana could…”

“A spider. The other forms didn’t come as easy to her as I suspect they will to you.”

“I can’t even talk to spiders.”

“We’ll start with ravens, then.” Morrigan quirked an eyebrow at her. “If, after all, you are intrigued.”

“I have to think,” she repeated, tugging at the base of her braid. “What you’re suggesting…”

“Is outside the limits of Circle and College wisdom. It hails from a time long before the Chantry existed.”

“Is it blood magic?”

“For one who spills the amount of blood that you do, I wonder at your squeamishness,” Morrigan sighed, “There is no blood involved. The skill is of the natural school - if a nearly forgotten branch.”

“Look to my childhood,” Avexis choked out.

Morrigan was silent, and then, “I see your point. Kieran is just nine. If such a thing happened to him…” the witch shuddered.

“I was only a year older.”

The witch hesitated, “I did not mean to… dismiss your experiences. But in your untapped abilities may lie the key to defeating Corypheus.”

Avexis quirked up her mouth, “I don’t think a raven would be much effect against Corypheus and his dragon. And thanks to Leliana, we have enough messengers.”

Morrigan’s eyes went dark. “Point taken, Inquisitor. Though you mustn‘t limit yourself this early.” Her smile grew mysterious. “I will speak to you soon. I, also, have things to ponder.” She turned away to look out over the glacier, an obvious dismissal.

Avexis backed away, shimmied down the ladder, ignoring the greetings of the other mages, and headed straight for the Herald’s Rest. It had been that sort of day.

She entered the tavern.  Behind the bar, Cabot kept wiping glasses dry, solid and reassuring.  He made the very idea of becoming something other than what she was absurd.  Just what she needed.  “Could I get…”

“Yeah, yeah,” he slid the bottle of Mackay’s over to her, along with the glass he was holding. “Go easy, though. I‘ve been lectured by the Ambassador about letting you go too far - and that woman is petrifying.”

“Inquisitor!” Cassandra marched through the door, straight and with the kind of purpose that Avexis envied. “You’ve been talking to that…”

“The gossip mill works a little too well, I see. And yes, I’ve been talking to Morrigan,” Avexis poured, and sipped the malt beverage cautiously. “She had… quite the revelation for me.”

“Did she?” Cassandra sounded stiff, and vaguely curious. The woman glanced around, looking for privacy.

“Cabot, another glass?” Avexis asked, quietly.

“You’re gonna share?” The dwarf blinked, and then grinned, “Better have another bottle then, Inquisitor. On me.” Avexis looked skeptical, and fished in her pouch to shove coin his way. “All right then, off with you.  Bring the glasses back, when you've time, and sobered up.”

Cassandra grunted, and took the glass and bottle. “Come. I have a feeling you won’t want to be overheard.” She glanced upward, where Cole waited.

“Cole won’t say anything,” Avevis paused, “at least, not on purpose. Probably. Unless he’s worried about me.”

“Ugh,” Cassandra rolled her eyes. “Fine. Come with me. We’ll drink in the Commander’s office, as he is still…” she cleared her throat. “When will he return?”

Avexis smiled, her worried lines softening, “Day after tomorrow, by the last raven.” It had been his raven, Silky, and he had several sweet words for her alone in the letter she carried.

Cassandra pressed her lips into a thin line, and led the way up out of the tavern, and out the upper door before she spoke again, “And Rylen…”

Avexis’ snapped out of her daydream. “He arrived this afternoon. Didn’t you…” she frowned, “You were with me. You know he’s here.”

“I’ve… avoided him, thus far.” Cassandra glanced over the battlements. “I wanted to ask your opinion, as a friend, and as someone who knew… Galyan.”

Avexis pulled open Cullen’s door, and waved Cassandra inside, and then lit several torches with a flick of her wrist, bathing them both in golden light. “Go ahead.”

“Is Knight-Captain Rylen… flirting with me?”

Avexis laughed, and settled herself into Cullen’s large chair, curling her legs up underneath her. It almost felt like him hugging her from behind. Comforting, familiar.  There would be less hugs, if she accepted Morrigan's proposal.  “Most definitely.”

“So… I’m not imagining it,” Cassandra muttered, uncorked her bottle, and poured a dram into the glass. “Shit.” She drank immediately, the inch of liquid disappearing.

“Is that a problem?”

Cassandra glared at her over the rim. “Yes. No.” She set the glass down firmly. “I have only been with one man in my life. I’ve been… faithful.”

“Merde,” Avexis’ eyes widened. “All these years and you’ve never once…”

“Never once.” Cassandra drank quickly, but not fast enough to hide the wobble in her lower lip.

Avexis snorted into her own glass, “That explains the books.“ Cassandra glared at her. “Do you like the Knight-Captain?”

Cassandra snorted, “He’s a fool. Much like Galyan, he plays with words at the worst times. He called me…” she flushed, as the liquor hit her bloodstream. “He said I was magnificent, on the way back from the Western Approach. Galyan is the only man who ever claimed…”

“Galyan is dead.”

Cassandra’s eyes dropped. “Yes. And has been for months. And we’d been… apart, for much longer than that. And I feel a fool for even questioning - even caring - how he would feel about this.”

Avexis drank, and let her eyes drift to the corner of Cullen’s desk, where a wooden Mabari stood guard. She picked up the carving, and touched its nose. “You shouldn’t feel foolish. If you aren’t ready…”

“But I…” Cassandra made another disgusted noise, “I think I am. Ready. Rylen’s so different from… but that isn’t a bad thing.” She drank again, quickly. “He’s far more… muscular. You might not have noticed.”

“I noticed,” Avexis giggled. “His arms, right?”

Cassandra actually smiled, “Oh, yes.” She pressed her lips together to stop laughter from escaping. “I shouldn’t be obsessed with his physical appearance. There are more important things. He is… upright. Devout. Dedicated to his Order.  Honest.”

Avexis poured herself another. “It’s not like Templars aren’t… aren’t full of other fine qualities… that they‘re damn pretty is just the icing on the tiny cake.”

“Not so tiny, I think,” Cassandra quipped, and then hiccupped. “I… like him. I think. Perhaps.”

“You should tell him!” Avexis enthused, and lifted her glass. “To Hot Templar! All the hot Templars!”

Cassandra smiled, and drank. “And what of you and the Commander? Has there been any progress?”

Avexis bit her lip, smiling. “We’re only waiting for his return.”

“That is wonderful news!” Cassandra flushed. “Finally!”

The door to the Keep‘s bridge crashed open, framing a wide-eyed Dorian. “Oh my,” he twisted his moustache. “A little birdie told me you were drinking without me.  We can't have that.”

“We’re drinking to hot Templars,” Avexis giggled, waving him over. “You’ll appreciate that, Dorian.”

“The good Knight-Captain?” Dorian sighed, “I knew he didn’t appreciate the male form, but…” he sighed, and strolled over to the desk. “Cassandra, my dear, your taste is impeccable. I always loved a ginger.”

“Bull, too,” mused Avexis.

“To Templars!” Cassandra raised her glass again.

“Fuck the Templars!” Avexis intoned seriously, and they both drank, with Avexis cackling into her glass at her own cleverness.

“Rylen’s accent would make me swoon, if I was inclined to such things.” Dorian cleared his throat, and drank directly from the bottle. “Now, I’m going to catch up with you two inebriates, and we’re going to talk about hot Templars.”

Avexis shook her head. “No. Cassandra’s going to go find Rylen and tell him she’s…”

“Oh! Is she?” Dorian’s face lit up. “Can I watch? This should be… amusing.”

“No,” Avexis slurred, and put her hand over his. “No. She’s got to do this alone. It’s better, n’est-ce pas? She made me do it. Now it’s her turn to use her words.” She glimmered evilly in Cassandra’s direction. “But I’ll let her do it drunk. Did you find a copy of that book, Cass?”

“Don’t call me ‘Cass‘,” the Seeker buried herself in her glass. “No. Not yet. But Ser Morris thinks that there‘s a dwarf in Redcliffe who deals with such things.” She flushed. “Dorian, I don’t suppose I could borrow your copy of the ‘Carmenum di Amatus‘…”

“Oh, ho, ho!” Dorian chortled, and slapped the desk. It rocked. Frowning, he slapped it again. “Avexis… is the Commander’s desk rocking? Or is this questionable malt beverage hitting me hard?”

“It’s rocking,” Avexis grinned. “Sera and I did it. It’s funny. Makes Cullen people. I‘m waiting for her to pull something on the Herald of Andraste. Has to be soon, before I turn into a demigod.” She drank, sputtering as the beverage burned all the way down. “Came back from the Fade alive, and now I really need to stay people.”

Dorian snorted, “Right. Forget I asked.” He lifted a eyebrow at Cassandra, “For you, my favorite Seeker, I’ll absolutely part with it. Just… if you find another copy, send it my way? Bull appreciates fine poetry. And I appreciate his appreciation.”

“Done!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, Monday's chapter is NSFW. I will try to make the smut easy to dodge for those who dislike reading such things.


	44. Fast, Slow, and Toujours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So much Orlesian in this chapter. Some is translated in the text, but after Avexis gets... beyond translating, she quits. So... if you need to know what she's saying, it's all in the chapter notes at the end.
> 
> If you want to skip the smut, stop reading after Cullen closes the door and don't pick back up until after the break.
> 
> NSFW, if that wasn't obvious already.

Cullen made his way through the gates, and Avexis was waiting, chin high, rocking on her toes as she tried, he thought, to resist running towards him. He nodded at her, sparing a quick smile, before dismissing the troops. They saluted them both, their bows a bit lower for the Herald than for him, he was proud to note, and then they departed for the barracks, talking excitedly about baths and drinks at the tavern, and embracing a few loved ones, as he made his way to her side.

At her side where he belonged. He wanted to stay there forever. Hopefully… he squashed the thought back down, afraid to even think it in public, lest it show on his face.

“Commander,” her greeting was formal, ever professional, but her smile and glance up through her lashes were not. “Welcome home. Does our… appointment still stand for this evening, or are you… fatigued?” Her eyes were worried now, bracing herself against disappointment.

“I’ve rested enough,” he said lowly. “The healers say my recovery is all but complete.” He inclined his head. “I’m at your service, Milady Inquisitor.”

“I’ll see you at nine bells, then,” she couldn’t restrain her face from lighting up, but he was shocked when she rose to her toes and pecked his cheek. “I’m glad you’re home, Cullen.”

“I’ll see you tonight, Ladybird,” he whispered, smirking.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she winked, and swayed away, glancing back over her shoulder at him.

The rest of the day flew by with planning and paperwork. But she was true to her word - at the strike of nine bells she opened his door, and leaned up against the wall, waiting.

Cullen tried to breathe evenly, all too aware of her presence, her hair lit up by a thousand little sparks, magical fireflies in the dim light of his office. When he touched her, she would shock him - he knew it, but he didn‘t care. He had to concentrate, just a little bit longer, and then… he wrapped up, too quickly for his men, and not fast enough for himself, and turned to her, shutting the door behind his officers, desperate to reconnect.

She felt the same. Of course she did, strolling towards his desk with purpose, and his eyes on those hips… she shifted to the top of his desk, with liquid fluidity, just like she had all those weeks ago, before Adamant, before everything.

Before a miracle. Perhaps they could dare ask Andraste for one more - this of a more personal nature?

“Touch me, Cullen?”

His lips contacted hers and she pulled him down by his collar with her onto the surface of his desk, his knee between her legs. “Maker’s Breath,” he panted into her mouth, and arched up against her. “Ladybird… slow down.” Avexis pressed herself up towards his lips and ground her pelvis against him. He groaned, and reached up to cup a breast through her tunic. She shivered as he stroked. “Speak Orlesian to me,” he breathed in her ear.

It was her turn to sit up, “What, really? Don’t you want to know what I’m saying? I could be reciting Tranfigurations or… telling you the best way to cook a nug!”

“I don’t care. You do it in the dreams, and I love it.” Cullen ran a reverent hand down her back and bent forward to kiss her neck, separating her jacket to reach her skin. “Unless you don’t like something. You might use Common for that.”

“Stop is ‘Arrettes‘,” Avexis paused. “I won’t need to use it.” Her eyes sparked. She bent down herself to touch her lips to his jaw, and nibble there, “Will I?”

Cullen didn’t reply, merely curled himself further into her body, wrapping his arms around her back. Their mouths met frantic, despite his best intentions, and a minute later, Avexis started tearing at the clasps on her jacket, rocking up towards him and panting between kisses, her breath hot on his skin, her mouth wet on his neck.

“We’re in no hurry,” Cullen tried to slow his breathing. “We have all night, and every single one after that we can manage. I don‘t care what Josie and Leliana say. You came back. You‘ll always come back.” He shuddered at the touch of her hand on his face. “Slow down. We‘re in no rush.” The words were as much for himself as her, as he slid hands under her blouse, and cupped her ribs in his large hands.

“Je suis,” she narrowed her eyes at him, smiled deviously, and dropped her hands to his breeches. “Je te veux, Cullen. Voici. De tout mon coeur.” She angled herself towards his ear, “I am. I want you, Cullen. Here. With all my heart. I want you fast and hard now, slow and careful after, and for…” her voice wobbled, “and for always?”

Cullen forgot about taking it slow. His Maker’s Apple bobbed before he reached up his hands to shift her jacket off her shoulders. He dropped it on the floor a moment later, and ran his fingers up her sides to her breastband.

Avexis busied her hands with his breeches, drawing the lace out long, before she jerked it loose, two fingers buried beneath his waist. Cullen grunted and pulled her shirt off over her head before she could start on his. The lace and silk of her breastband caught rough on his fingertips as he trailed fingers down her spine. He stopped for a moment, staring into her eyes before raising a shaking hand and brushing her hair back, his shoulders moving in time with her heart, but focused on her eyes. Avexis met his gaze, and raised her own hand to cover his on her waist, and then moved it deliberately to touch her breast, so that his thumb touched her nipple though the thin fabric.

Something snapped - it might have been his patience. He growled, and pulled, tugging the fabric down to her waist without bothering with the ties, and then rolled her over to her back, his mouth at her other peak. “Cullen,” Avexis arched into his hands, “Cullen, undress me. Des que possible. Vite, s‘il te plait.”

“Have to get up,” he groaned, and flicked her nipple. “Don’t want to. I want to take my time. If that means you have to stay beneath me, then so be it.”

“J‘ai le cul borde de nouilles,” she laughed, “We can take a moment, can‘t we? I want to see you. I‘ve never taken the time during sex to look at a lover. It‘s all been dark corners and rush.”

“Noodles?” Cullen raised his head, “What was that about cul and noodles?” He narrowed his eyes, “You aren’t making fun of my hair, are you?”

“It means, literally, “I have the ass full of noodles‘,” Avexis giggled, “It means I have all the luck, more or less.” She paused, “Why would anyone make fun of your hair? You have wonderful hair.” She echoed the words with scratching his scalp, leaving little tingles of delight behind her fingers.

Cullen ignored the question, “That… makes no sense. Are all Orlesian idioms so…” Cullen traced her lips with his thumb, his eyes soft. “Your lips are the same color as your breasts. Wait…” he stopped, and shook his head as if to clear it. “Cul means ’ass’, doesn’t it?”

Avexis laughed, too loudly, “Yes. And your brother - I was giggling in the garden when we played chess the first time because you said your brother’s name is Branson.” She leaned in, and parted his coat. “Branleur means ’wanker’, Cullen. In Orlais, you are almost the brothers ‘ass‘ and ‘wanker‘.”

Cullen sputtered, “Wait until I tell Bran. He’ll die. For all the times we used those names on each other…” he cupped her head in his hands again and kissed her full on the mouth. “Cullen means ’handsome man’ in Fereldan. Forgive me for preferring that definition?”

“Good to know that I need to contend with your vanity,” Avexis smirked and lunged towards him, trying to pin him down. “Now are you going to undress me or do I have to do it myself?”

“Don’t let me stop you,” Cullen laughed into her mouth, angling underneath and tangling his tongue with hers in a desperate attempt to distract her.

“One would think you don’t want to get me naked,” she giggled, sliding away off the surface before he could pull her back.

Cullen’s breath hitched in his chest. “I just… don’t want this to be over too fast.”

“We have all night,” Avexis breathed and backed away. “I intend to use it. This night, and every other we can manage - like you said - but if you don‘t want to make the most of it, if you want me to stop now…” she put her hands over her laces and hovered there.

He closed his eyes, his eyebrows furrowed with the effort. “I can’t even imagine something so perfect.”

“Oh, Cullen,” Avexis stepped forward and cradled his face in her hands. “Trust me, neither can I.” She pulled away, only to loosen her own trousers and drop them, ‘til she was standing only in her smallclothes and a naughty grin, unwinding her breastband from around her waist. “Now you,” she breathed, dropping it to the floor. She pulled on his hand, and stood him up, shifting his too tight breeches over his thighs and down, running her fingers over him gently on the way. “Lay down. Back in the Circle, we rarely managed to get completely bare… so this is great fun.” Her eyes had never seemed so dark - almost black in the torchlight.

“I know,“ Cullen swept his desk clean, Leliana’s latest correspondence scroll rattling away to a far corner, and shifted back onto his desk. “Join me? If the desk is…” he flushed, and admitted, “I’ve been thinking about…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The bed is upstairs. It’s up to you.”

Avexis giggled, “I’ve been making plans for this desk.“ She slipped sideways and lifted herself up, eyes wide with mischief, and he laid her down, pulling her leg to cover him. He traced her ear gently, and she shivered, shutting her eyes.

Magic, to see her surrender to his hands. “Is that an elf thing?” The question was hesitant, curious, sincere.

“I have no idea,” she admitted. “I’ve never been with another elf. I like it, though. Sensitive.” He outlined it again, watching her shiver.

“Were they all blind?”

Avexis cleared her throat, “I knew two male elves. One preferred the company of men, and the other was… not interested.” Her ears turned red. “I might have propositioned him, once. I was too young to be tactful. It‘s rather embarrassing to think about.” She kicked at him slightly. “Don’t ruin the mood, Cullen.”

“I’ve never been with an elf either,” Cullen murmured. “I just… really wanted to touch you. Everywhere. From the tips of your ears to your sock-covered toes,” he chuckled and kissed her neck. She hummed and tightened her arms to hold him against her. “The things I’ve been thinking about…” he breathed into her ear, voice rough with longing.

Avexis whined and yanked him down, hands stroking his sides impatiently until she reached his smallclothes. She pulled them loose, and Cullen assisted her, shifting out of them and dropping them on the floor. “Touch me. I don‘t care where. I want your hands on me.” She grasped, stroking him boldly, and he buried his face in her neck, nipping a mark into her skin. His hand traced her stomach and slid lower, Avexis arching up to greet his hand with a hitched breath that might have been his name.

“All right?” He pulled back to watch her.

She shivered, “Yes. Yes. More, damn it.”

He sunk a finger into her, relishing her moan, and stilled, circling with his thumb. Cullen laughed, “How would you feel about… my mouth?”

“Merde,” she cursed, flushing. “Patience and creativity in the Circle were good ways to get caught. So… I‘ve never had that.” She sounded awed, “Do you really want…”

“Later, definitely,” he promised, smirking, vowing silently to himself to make her beg for more. “In the bed. This is for fast, and hard. Later is for me showing you soft and slow, and making you feel things you never have before.” He stroked, gently, watching her response, and lowered his mouth to her breast again, lapping gently.

“Yes,” Avexis panted, cupping the back of his head.

Lost in her taste, he felt her hand tighten on his curls, and dragged upwards, mouth trailing kisses all along her skin. Her mouth captured his once more, and her hand released his head, only to drop between them, fumbling to place him at her entrance. “Cullen. Please. No more teasing.”

Slowly, he kissed her and pulled back, only to find her mouth with his again, and slowly, slide home, rocking softly to the sound of her shaking inhale.

It had been… a very long time. Heartbeat in his ears, louder than he would have liked to admit, Cullen closed his eyes and whispered, “Merde.”

Avexis burst into laughter, and slapped his shoulder, moaning at the slight movement. “That doesn’t count as cussing.” She laughed again, and arched up against him. “Zut. Move, Cullen.”

“Not yet.” Cullen shook under her hands, and she cupped the back of his neck gently, forcing him to open his eyes. “If I move now, you’ll be left with nothing.”

“That bad?” Her wickedness was delicious.

“Avexis, you’re that good.” He grabbed her hips, and gathered her towards him, thrusting once. “Feel that?” She moaned, so he did it again, driven nearly past reason with how good being buried in her felt. He had to close his eyes again, aware his voice was tight with an attempt at control. “That’s months and months of wanting you. I… I…”

She pulled him down to her neck again and whispered in his ear, “Let go, Cullen. Please. I don‘t want you to control yourself.” She squirmed under him, dragging her nails down his shoulder blades. “Move.”

He quivered, feeling every line she left behind. “No. Roll over. You on top. I won’t… I won’t take you like this, not… now. I’ll be too rough, I won’t have enough control. Underneath, I might last longer.”

Avexis’ eyes flashed, and in a moment she had him underneath her on his desk. She leaned down and whispered, “That sounds like a dare. Loser comes first, Cullen.”

Cullen narrowed his eyes. “Deal.”

With a wicked grin, she straightened and rocked against him, and then rose, in a graceful adulation, and sunk down, and ground against him, painfully slowly. She panted, and did it again, moaning into the palm of her hand.

He nearly lost himself at the muffled sound. How many nights in the Circle had he heard those noises, knowing people were just beyond the bookshelves, and not having any desire whatsoever to stop them? But this time, it was her - and he was the cause.

In a sudden rush of determination, Cullen lifted a hand from her hip, and cupped her breast, and then licked his fingers, tasting her flavor from before, and rolled her nipple into a pebble beneath his fingers.

“Fuck,” Avexis whined, a scarce whisper. “Cullen…”

He didn’t answer, just raised up so that he could capture her other breast in his mouth, and nibbled, then licked away the little sting. His other hand crept around her backside and cupped her forward, and she rocked against him again, as he tightened his buttocks underneath her.

She rocked down, and he was there, already pushing back.

Like this, he wouldn’t even have to touch her. Five thrusts, and she would come over him. She rocked, again and again, forgetting to be quiet. That was the sound he longed to hear… “Beautiful,” he whispered. “Come for me, love.”

Avexis bit her lip. “Don‘t get so cocky, Commander.” She reached behind her and fondled him, squeezing gently, arching her breasts closer to his mouth again.

The combination was too much. He groaned, “Ladybird… no puns. Not now. Please.”

She whispered, “The next time we make love, I’m going to take you in my mouth and suck you until you’re dry.” He shook in answer. “And then I’m going to lay on your bed, my head on your pillow, and stroke myself, and make you watch until you’re hard again. And then, and only then, will I let you taste me…”

“Maker…” he groaned. “Avexis…”

“And then I’m going to tell you take me from behind, holding onto my breasts like a lifeline,” she whispered, rocking harder. He thrust up at the right moment, and she cried out in shock.

“That’s one,” he managed.

Avexis deliberately swirled her hips around him, rising up and then sinking. He thrust up again and she shivered, bending back down, leaving her own mark at the sensitive place just behind his ear. “Two.“ Cullen caught her breast again and suckled. She moaned, breathy and almost silent, and then panted in his ear, as she bit his earlobe.

“You’ll be at my mercy,” she whispered, “Even when you’re in control. You can‘t resist me.”

He groaned, and thrust again, “Damn it, three.” He clenched his jaw. He had to hold out.

“Damn doesn’t count as cussing,” Avexis whispered. “Tell me to fuck you, Cullen.”

“No.”

“Then I could leave,” Avexis sat up, and rocked, little pulses of heat along his cock, shifting him ever deeper to the music of her moans, holding his hip with one hand, and tracing a line down the trail of his fine hairs that led, for now, to her own center. “If you don’t want me to fuck you, I should go. Or perhaps I should take care of myself first, use you? You‘ve made me wait so long… perhaps I should make you wait. I‘m so close…”

Cullen grabbed her hips, and thrust again. “Four,” he panted, eyes blown wide and brows heavy with concentration. She gasped, and arched her back and moved hard over him, pressing down onto his cock.

On the floor, an unseen force gathered, and whirled the mess from his desk higher. There was a shatter from something he was vaguely aware shouldn‘t break, and then the torch flared, once, twice. She opened her eyes and surged forward, pressing him into her, slamming down on his cock, again and again, her hand curled around the wooden edge of the desk next to his head. Something splattered, knocked off the desk by their rocking motions.

Cullen lost count, lost in her instead.

It didn’t matter. There was no loser. Avexis lay against his chest, just as she had in that damn dream, and he stroked her hair gently away from his mouth so that he could kiss her quiet through the aftermath. She smelled like the baths he’d been taking for months. “Embrium,” he chuckled.

“What?” The beauty on top of him lifted her head, confused.

“You always smell like Embrium.”

“Oh.” She blinked, “Is it a problem? Are you allergic? Galyan always said it… how do you say it… diffused! That’s it - diffused in hot water. It makes for a good medicinal bath, staves off infections from minor wounds, and I get a lot of those…”

Cullen chuckled, moving her over him, setting off a minor chain of shivers in both their bodies. “Galyan was a healer, I take it.”

“One of the best,” Avexis touched his lips, and he kissed her fingers. “Are you uncomfortable?”

Cullen grinned, “A little. Can I entice you to join me upstairs, madame?”

“Mademoiselle.” Her voice was harsh with correction.

“Ladybird,” Cullen concerned, drew her down to reach his forehead, cupping the back of her neck gently. “Forgive me. That upset you.”

Avexis shook her head, “It was unintentional. Just… don’t call me that again, please?”

“Is it Vivienne?”

“Non. Just… a madame is a married woman. I am not.” She shivered. “It’s incorrect. Wrong.” She shook herself again, “I am fine. I would like to go upstairs. My knees ache. And I think we might be leaking on your desk,” she made a face. “For a strategist, you didn’t think this through, Cullen.”

Cullen raised an eyebrow, “I beg to differ.” He pulled out a drawer with his left hand, and handed her a handkerchief. “I’m always prepared.” He cleared his throat, “I should perhaps have… pulled out? I‘m sorry…”

Avexis snorted, shifting off of him and tidying herself. “Don’t worry about it. I stocked up on witherstalk in the Forbidden Oasis, and it’s growing in the garden right now. I’ve been taking it since Adamant, and… I had some just before I visited you,” she admitted a little sheepishly. “You never know - I might have succeeded in seducing you, and I didn’t want to wait for this, just because of worrying about… that.” She smiled to herself, “If we make a habit of this I’ll give you your own cutting.”

Cullen nodded, marveling at the idea of something so sweet becoming anything close to a habit, and touched her cheek, “Was this all right? That wasn‘t… exactly what I had planned. Too… spontaneous. And fast.”

She laughed, and bopped his nose. “Oui. It’s everything I wanted, Cullen. Come on. Upstairs, my dog lord. Twice more before dawn. At least.”

Cullen tipped his head back. “Demon. You‘ll leave me a husk of a man.”

Her face lit up, “Definitely not a demon! The rest is your fault, for making me wait.” She laughed again, blissfully, and slapped his thigh. He raised an eyebrow as she slid off the desk and lunged for her, tossing her over his shoulder to her vocal delight.

He could listen to that laugh forever.

“Hold on, and enjoy the view.” He started up the ladder.

“Hmmm, nice view indeed,” her voice was strained, but she pinched his left cheek, and he groaned.

“Let me get upstairs first.”

The second time was slow, him buried between her legs and her crying out in surprise, fingers twisted pricks of pleasure-pain on his scalp. He brought her over the edge, tactically, playing what he knew of her body like an instrument, hand between legs, and his mouth everywhere, nipping and sucking a mark into her inner thigh when she begged him to return to her center.

She writhed above him against his pillows, crying out to their Maker for mercy, but he wouldn’t stop playing, not for any god.

She came to the song on his lips, one of worship and devotion, and slowly, he climbed up to hold her against his chest as she caught her breath, eyes wide with shock. “C’etait beau. Tellement beau!”

It didn’t take her long to reach for him with shaky hands, and pull him down to her mouth. He could taste her tears, and feel her tongue, licking her own essence away from his lips. Her skin buzzed with energy, and he surrendered to her again, letting her shift him on top of her, and slide inside, as if he was made to follow where she led.

Dazed, he moved, eyes locked with hers, breath catching with the strain to stay with her in the moment, and not just rut against her like a monster.

“Mon amour,” she breathed, “Je suis a toi pour toujours. Ne me quitte jamais. Je ne vous quitterai jamais, Cullen. Regarde moi, Cullen? Restez avec moi?”

He could tell she asked a question, but he could only groan, and bury himself in her further. Her fingers sparked on his buttocks, and he cried out when she lifted them away with alarm at her lack of control.

“Again,” he ordered, and blinking, she cupped his ass again, and he drove himself between her thighs, shaking and trembling to the magic - now less shocking - pouring from her fingertips - one minute ice, the next heat, until his control snapped, and he throbbed into her, “Avexis,” he managed, before he collapsed on her, completely spent.

Her laughter started a moment later, a trill he had so rarely heard, and he somehow found the strength to nuzzle her sweaty neck, tasting and playing further, with no thought to what happened next - a strange sort of freedom.

He fell asleep there, in the circle of her arms, pillowed against her breasts, lips still pressed to her neck.

He dreamt of fields of Embrium, and golden hair hiding a pair of violet eyes, and a laugh that made him want to run after her forever.

 

_< EotD>_

The next morning, Avexis woke first and levered herself upright, staring in disbelief at the form of Cullen, improbably golden in the morning light slanting through the hole in his roof. “Tres jolie, whatever you say,” she whispered to his sleeping form, and curled up against him, wincing slightly at her sore muscles, knowing that she should get dressed and slip out of his room before the whole castle started to take notice.

But surely she had a few minutes.

As if her touch set him off, he started to twist and mutter. “No! Begone!” He jerked up and hit his head on her chin. Avexis rubbed it, and he grabbed her shoulder, steadying himself. “Ladybird,” he breathed, and laid back down, pulling her with him. “I’m sorry, I…”

“Bad dream?” Avexis curled back up and kissed his chest.

Cullen shivered, “Yes. They’re worse without lyrium. Unless… unless you‘re there, anyway.” He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

She nodded against him. “You can let me worry about you a little. I lose sleep over your lyrium withdrawal.”

“Then definitely don‘t worry,” he chuckled. “But I haven’t slept this well in… some time. Since before you left for the Western Approach, certainly.”

“Is it another good morning?”

“Even better than the last. To wake up… to find you still here…” he marveled, losing the train of his words, and Avexis closed her eyes and smiled in agreement, glad that she hadn‘t left before he woke. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

She sat up and straddled him, placing both her hands on his chest. “I have to say something, before anything…else,” she shivered.

Cullen propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes worried. “What? Did I do something you didn‘t like? Just tell me, I’ll…”

“I… No!” Avexis traced the stubble on his chin. “No. You were… you are perfect.” She shook her head. “Je t’aime. I love you. That’s all. Je t’aime. It‘s too soon, maybe. I don‘t know, I’ve never done this before, but it‘s true. Maker preserve me, but I do.” Her forehead wrinkled from worry, and he traced her hair away from her scar, and rubbed the lines away. “I said so, last night, when I wasn’t… thinking straight, but it was the wrong language, and I… wanted you to understand. No secrets.”

“That’s all?” Cullen’s laugh echoed through the rafters, and a couple of ravens flew from the tree snaking up his wall to the roof. “That’s all?” He wrapped his arms around her and tugged her back down to lay against him, her head pressed into his neck. “I love you, too,” he murmured in her ear, “I have for months. If it‘s too soon now, I was unfashionably early.” He cleared his throat, “Je t’aime,” he managed haltingly with a question in his voice. “Was that close…”

“You’re perfect,” Avexis giggled. “You’ll always speak Orlesian with a growl, but it’s endearing. You can growl your affection at me any time, dog lord,” she purred, “my dog lord.”

“Yours,” breathed Cullen. They were both silent for a few moments. “Avexis… are your clothes still downstairs?”

Avexis giggled, “I think so. Unless you brought them - I’m fairly sure I didn’t carry them up. My hands were pleasantly occupied.” She squeezed his ass.

“Then stay here,” Cullen said sternly, “I’ll go retrieve them.”

“Cullen, I can…”

He slid out of the bed and shook his head, “If you go downstairs like that -” he indicated her disheveled hair and naked body, “I guarantee the desk will be having an encore before you leave.”

Avexis sat up and looped her arms around her legs, “Would that be a bad thing?”

Cullen swooped back in and kissed her breathlessly. “Only for my powers of concentration. I should apologize in advance for the precious little work I’m going to get done today, Inquisitor.” He kissed her one more time and then repeated, “Please, stay here? I‘ll be right back.”

“Andraste‘s Mercy,” she heard him exclaim from below. “Avexis, when did the bottle shatter? And the inkwell?! There‘s a massive puddle…”

“I don’t remember! I was a little busy.” She laughed back. “Watch your feet if there’s broken glass. I won’t be able to heal you. Raise you from the dead, maybe, but not heal.” She rose and puttered around his room, grabbing a large shirt in a cheery yellow wool from his chest and retrieving her discarded socks from the floor and slipping them on, before finding a comb and attempting to tidy her hair before the tiny mirror set up on an empty barrel.

“It’s a complete mess down here,” he called, “I have no idea how I’m going to explain any of it.” She heard him on the ladder and turned to lean against the cask. His eyes rose above the floor and he smiled, hoisting himself up, her clothes and his slung over his shoulder, and her boots in his hand. “Then again, everyone will probably guess. Rylen is going to be insufferable. Guess who is getting assigned to the Western Approach again?” He raised an eyebrow, and one side of his lip stretched his scar tight, “Are you wearing my plaideweave shirt?”

“I was cold,” Avexis fidgeted. “Is that all right? I’ve never seen you wear it.”

“I hate that shirt,” Cullen snorted, “Mia sent it to me for Satinalia. Punishment for not finding time to come home, by my guess. I told you a letter wouldn’t be good enough. It’s gruesome.” He set down her boots and crossed over to her, placing his hands on her hips. “It looks good on you, though,” he admitted. “Especially with the violently purple socks. I‘ll have to tell Mia how much you admire it. She‘ll probably make you a matching one.” He hoisted her up, squealing, and went to drop her back on the bed. “Yes, I’m afraid we’re both going to be late for work this morning,” he laughed, and framed her body with his. “You are irresistible, Ladybird.” He searched her face, hungry. “You look more beautiful in that damned shirt than in all those fancy clothes they stuffed you in at Halamshiral.”

Avexis sniffed, “This suits me better. Pants might be nice though.”

He ignored the hint. “You were… unattainable. Like a goddess, or…” Cullen shrugged. “You looked lovely, but I felt like I couldn’t touch you, not until you were in that blighted uniform. Then you looked like someone I knew.”

Avexis shoved him over and draped a leg across him, pinning him down by both shoulders. “Is that why you wouldn’t even speak to me? I thought I had done something horrible! I was the same person under the clothes.”

He traced her hair behind her ear, and then cupped it, touching the tip, and she shivered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Are you my goddess, now?”

“Your… something, anyway,” Avexis murmured against his lips and they lost themselves in the kiss again. “I cannot stop,” she laughed, shoving his chest a little. “You horrible man.”

“Perfect to horrible in a matter of minutes,” Cullen mused, “that must be some kind of record…” he pulled her leg closer, angling them both sideways. “I wish we could stay like this all day.”

“Your doors are locked. We could try,” she teased. “If they can’t get in…”

Cullen groaned, “I gave Cassandra a key, just in case the lyrium…” he stopped, shuddering. “Avexis, do you… often use lyrium?”

“Hardly ever,” she cuddled closer. “I won’t sabotage you, Hot Templar. There‘s no reason, outside of an emergency like the Breach. I haven‘t since Haven… fell.” She squirmed a little. “I haven’t needed to. Even for the dragons. Everything is clearer, now.” She paused, but she didn’t want to ruin the moment by telling him about Morrigan’s offer. Just the thought made her queasy.

“Quit calling me that,” he laughed.

She shoved her distraction away. “Never. You‘ve been Hot Templar since I woke up under the Chantry. You keep calling me a bug, I think it‘s only fair.”

“Ladybirds are cute.”

“A goddess to a bug in a matter of minutes, that must be a record,” Avexis giggled.

“To be fair, you could be some sort of Ladybird Goddess… the Dalish do that, don‘t they? One of theirs is associated with a wolf, isn‘t it? And another a halla?” Avexis grabbed the pillow and covered his face with it. He flung it off and tackled her, and after a breathless moment, they forgot they had anywhere to be.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Des que possible. Vite, s‘il te plait. - As soon as possible. Quick, please.
> 
> J‘ai le cul borde de nouilles. - literally "I have the ass full of noodles', but as slang, having all the luck.
> 
> C’etait beau. Tellement beau. - It was beautiful. So beautiful.
> 
> Je suis a toi pour toujours. Ne me quitte jamais. Je ne vous quitterai jamais, Cullen. Regarde moi, Cullen? Restez avec moi? - I am yours forever. Never leave me? I'll never leave you, Cullen. Look at me, Cullen. Stay with me?
> 
> je t'aime - I love you.


	45. Best Policies, Assumptions, and Feathered Friends

“I’ve got to talk to you about something.” Her hands twisted around her napkin as he ate, and she pretended to. “It will probably make you angry… or even scare you. I‘m sorry in advance, but… I don‘t want to hide this. I don‘t want to hide anything from you.”

“Ladybird,” he sighed and set down his spoon. “Quit worrying so much. I won’t…”

“You say that now,” she rolled her eyes. “It starts with this; Morrigan is a shapeshifter.”

Cullen frowned, and balled up his napkin in his lap. “We knew she was an apostate. It’s not unusual for apostates to have unusual…”

“Cullen. Listen.” Avexis sighed, “She says I’m not living up to my potential.”

“Oh,” Cullen counted to five. “She thinks…”

“She doesn’t think. She knows. She was doing what I do with animals when she was a child,” Avexis stressed. “She says she can teach me. That it could help against Corypheus. But…”

“You don’t have to learn anything you don’t want to, even if it would help against Corypheus. But you don‘t have to ask a Templar‘s permission, either.” Cullen closed his eyes. “Do you… want to learn?”

“Should I?” Her voice was low, panicked. “I’m scared of losing myself - but she says it‘s changing shape, not losing consciousness. There’s no blood involved - so it shouldn’t be like Frenic… She says it’s all willpower, but…”

Cullen snorted, and opened his eyes. “No worries then. I’ve never met a mage more stubborn.”

She tapped his arm, and then wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “I am not stubborn. It’s strength of character. That’s what Galyan used to say when Cassandra called him stubborn. Pot calling the kettle black.“ She paused, and whispered, “She says that she taught Surana to turn into a spider.” Cullen jerked away from his desk, his chair legs screeching on the flagstones. “See, you are frightened.” She slumped, and drew up her knees to her chest in her own chair. “I don’t know what to do. I don‘t want… people to fear me. I don‘t want you to fear me,” she corrected, in a very small voice.

“It’s not like that. I just… don’t like spiders.” Cullen grinned, nervously, “A spider the size of Surana would terrify me. She was rather tall, as I recall.”

Avexis laughed, feebly. “I doubt I could do that. I can’t talk to… insects. Mammals are easiest, and I can communicate with reptiles well enough.”

“Well enough, she says,” Cullen hid his eyes and tried to breathe. “Avexis… are you telling me you might be able to turn into a varghest? Rylen told me about the Approach… you had trouble with varghest and phoenixes…”

She smoothed her own napkin out, folded it and placed it on the tray. “That was a failure on their end, not mine,” Avexis contradicted firmly. “The varghest was too upset to listen to reason. But I could understand him and the phoenix just fine. They just - wouldn‘t listen back. Too territorial, maybe.” Her shoulders relaxed. “You’re taking this better than I expected.”

“What’s not to take well?” Cullen’s shoulders twitched. “My girl informs me that she can probably turn into an animal with a little effort and study… and I,” he sighed, “I think she should, if it can keep her safe. It takes a lot of effort to kill a varghest.” He met her eyes. “You’d make a lovely phoenix?” He laughed slightly. “They’re rather elegant looking, I think, for a lizard.”

She was wide-eyed with surprise, and her eyes were darker than usual. “Just like that.”

“Je t’aime,” Cullen said, haltingly. “Whether that means you just continue to shock me accidentally or occasionally decide being a lizard is the way to go. I might be… worried for you, but it‘s for you, not scared of you.” Honesty drove him to conclude, “Probably.”

A reluctant smile turned up the corner of her mouth, and she leaned over to kiss him. “I might be able to turn into a Mabari.”

“Don’t make this weird.” Cullen flushed, “I’d never be able to call you ‘pup’.” He reached out and pulled her into his lap.

“A wolf, then?”

“That’s… a little better. Maybe.” He kissed her. “I’m not really hungry.”

“I am,” she whispered, and swung her leg over his to straddle him. “For you.”

Two hours later, she approached Morrigan in the library, where the woman was buried in a book about Elvhenan. “Teach me,” she ordered, voice shaking.

“As you wish,” and the witch smiled. “To the tower then. We’d best start small - and don’t assume you know how to fly. Accidents happen most often where assumptions occur.”

On the top of the mages’ tower again, Morrigan turned to face her. “Can you hear the ravens now?”

“Of course,” Avexis scoffed. Morrigan allowed a small smile of approval to cross her face.

“Then call one here.”

“Which one?”

Morrigan blinked, “You can tell between…” she composed herself. “It matters not.”

Avexis concentrated, and Baron Plucky flung himself from Leliana’s aerie in a moment, darting towards her with a happy squawk. He landed and she stroked his head, chittering at him for a moment.

“Excellent,” Morrigan narrowed her eyes. “Now, concentrate on his mind. Sink in. Become…”

Avexis closed her eyes and felt the world narrow, and when she opened her eyes, the world looked… duller, with a few shiny glints off the armor and weapons from the training ring far below them, beguiling and worth treasuring, if only she could lift them. The wind smelled… wonderful, and she breathed deep… only to realize that her chest was covered with feathers.

Baron Plucky flipped his head sideways and chirruped. _Better._ The bird blinked at her sideways, and then flew away.

Startled, Raven Avexis hopped backwards. She squawked, frightened. _Help!_

“Do not panic,” A large woman - Morrigan - her brain supplied, appeared out of her left eye. It was odd, being able to see both sides but not in the middle, and she tilted her head. “Your assumed shape will slip away if you get hit too hard, or fear too much. You’re fine. You’re still you. Breathe.”

_Are you sure?_ She breathed, more puffs than deep breaths, but… she calmed, and experimentally, stretched out a wing. _This is…_ she flapped upwards, and hovered, disoriented and awkward. _Souffle de Créateur._

Morrigan scoffed, “You deal with far too many Fereldans.” But a smile played on her lips. “I did not expect this to go as well as it has. When I taught Surana, she spent a week watching a spider weave a web before she was capable of this much. Of course, she always had that fool Alistair nattering away while she was supposed to be studying. Why she was attracted to that...” she stopped. “Never you mind. She was more easily distracted than you.”

Avexis blinked one round raven eye. _Why am I different?_

“Natural talents,” Morrigan’s face was large and warped, but shrunk abruptly until she was a raven as well. _Now,_ she asked in her mind, her eyes just as yellow as before, _I must ask… are you afraid of heights?_

Avexis looked at Morrigan with a very bird-like tilt of the head. _A little late for that question, n’est-ce pas?_

And Morrigan laughed. _Perhaps._ She hopped to the edge of the tower. _Follow me, then. If you dare._ The witch tipped herself over the edge, raven laughter echoing against the stones of the Keep. Avexis hopped up, refusing to think, unfurled her wings, and dove.

Baron Plucky returned to the heights of the tower, beak full of Leliana’s best shiny things, the spymaster’s threats ringing in his ears, just in time to watch her fly away with the other one.

He dropped the shinies, and hung his head, scratching at the stones of the tower. He could chase her, but…

But a small caw came from behind him, and he turned to see…

A plumper bird, with one white feather on her chest, hopped towards him and his pile of objects. _Yours? Not yours. Hooded one yells. Shiny fuzzy one doesn’t yell. He’s nicer. Gives me sweet crumbs, when he has them. Like him better than the one with the hood._

The Baron puffed up his chest. _Mine now._

She tossed her head. She was pretty, if not as stunning as… _Better give them back. Her special ring is in there. She’ll pluck you and use you for quills if you don’t._ She hopped towards him, head tilted shyly. _Silky will help._ Despite her body language she rubbed up against him deliberately.

Far above, with the glacier spiraling beneath her as she rode the wind, Avexis squawked, and trilled in raven laughter. _Baron’s met his match._

_It does happen._ Morrigan’s tone was stern. _Don’t listen to them. Fly. Though… you’re doing quite well. Hidden talents indeed. Now I wonder… what would your spymaster think of your current state?_ Cackling, she led the way to the tower. _She knows me in this form from… before. Shall I introduce you?_ The mage tilted her wings sideways, and Avexis followed, albeit more gradually, diving in the open door that concealed the spymaster’s aerie.

Leliana sat at her table in her tower, buried behind missives from all over Thedas, reading and sorting with quick eyes. “More bear attacks… best keep that from Avexis. The last time she got that news was… amusing, but we don‘t need a repeat,” she sighed, and set the missive aside. Avexis landed on the table, and hopped towards her, Morrigan at her side. “Hello, there,” Avexis had never heard her so gentle. “You are a pretty one. Violet eyes…” she frowned. “I’ve never seen that on a raven before.” Her voice shook. “I’d remember.” Her eyes flashed to Morrigan. “A friend of yours, Morrigan?”

Morrigan ruffled her feathers smugly.

“I see,” Leliana laughed slightly. “Very well. I’m always looking for recruits, young lady. Who am I to deny a volunteer?” She looked over the shoulder at her shrine. “Perhaps even the birds understand how dire the situation is. The Avvar would say so… I should ask SkyWatcher what this means to him.”

Avexis hopped forward to regain her attention.

“Very well. We can use you, but there are… risks.” Leliana’s eyes fell. “We’ll start you small. Can you take this to Josie? Morrigan, can you show her the way?” A small flask was strapped to her back, Avexis furling out her wings to allow it. “Excellent.” Leliana tapped her beak gently. “You are a fast learner. Come back and get a treat. Bon Voyage, Mademoiselle.”

The errand took no time, and the treat tasted excellent, to her raven tongue.

Back up on the mage’s tower, she transformed back into herself again, gasping with laughter. “She didn’t know me,” she told Morrigan, who was straightening her clothing from her own transformation. “She didn’t… despite the eyes?”

“Leliana is observant, but people usually see what they want to see. Often, what she suspects she fears to confirm,” sniffed the other mage, brushing herself off as if the contact with the spymaster had dirtied her leather skirt. “Now…on to your homework, Inquisitor…” she smiled, “Other than carrying messages, transforming during battles, and the like, how else do you think you might use your gifts?”

Avexis paled, “I‘m not sure…”

“People aren’t the only ones whose world is threatened by Corypheus,” Morrigan purred. “Think. We‘ll meet again in… a few days, I think. I need to spend some time making sure my son studies as he should.”

“Can your son…”

Her eyes softened, “He’s yet to show his true talents. There’s… time yet. Best to allow them to emerge gradually, before the world decides how he should behave. Still, a strong foundation is good for any child.” She lifted a single eyebrow before turning back to Avexis. “I’m sure you would agree.”

There wasn't any real room for disagreement.


	46. Wolves, Mabari, and Bears

All night, Avexis thought, curled up against an oblivious Cullen in his room. What little time in the Fade she found was filled with Mabari, wolves and bears, marching in an endless parade.  Her rest troubled, she rose early, dressing and lacing her boots silently, to let her lover sleep until he had to rise and face the day.  He mumbled against her lips when she bent to kiss him, unintelligible, but the fleeting smile on his lips told her his dreams were still sweet. 

She made her way to the garden, and the small chapel. Perhaps there she would find a semblance of peace.

But as she knelt before Andraste, the shrine staring down as stonily benevolent as always, as she prayed for guidance, she knew she had already made up her mind. She would make the attempt.  It wasn’t a serene thought - but it was the right thing to do.  The conviction of it overwhelmed her, and she locked her hands tight enough together to bleach her knuckles white.  She was afraid, but she had been afraid since Haven.  Fear was nothing new.  This was just another Fear to conquer.

What was more, Cullen needed to know it was a possibility. She couldn’t keep this from her lover - or the man who commanded her armies.  Even if he… she put that out of her mind.  He wouldn’t judge her for doing everything she could to defeat the monster that threatened them all, surely.

She could no more quench her magic than reach up and catch a star. If this was going to work, he had to understand.  And understanding had to begin with honesty.

Her course was plotted. Her final prayer to the Maker that morning wasn’t for guidance.  It was for mercy and serenity.

But as she left for the kitchens, she felt the opposite of serene.

 

_< EotD>_

 

Avexis slammed into Cullen’s office, tossing him one blueberry cake, and then a second. She began chewing on the third, a serious look on her face as he fumbled to settle the breakfast treats on his desk.

His favorite cake might sweeten him up… and feeding him couldn’t hurt. What she had to say… she sent another silent prayer to the Maker, that he’d understand.

She swallowed, the cake dry in her mouth. Without further preamble, she spoke, “I’m going to the Hinterlands.  As soon as possible.  Today, if I can manage it.”

“What?” Cullen lifted his eyebrows. “Why? The rifts are closed, and you’ve tracked the Carta red lyrium shipments elsewhere… and we’re months away from sparing enough soldiers for cleanup duty, whatever Teagan would prefer.  Corypheus comes first.”

“It’s the bears.” Avexis shut the door firmly, face deadly serious. “I…,” she hesitated.  “Cullen, do you trust me?”

“Implicitly.”

She didn’t allow herself to relax. “Then you should know, I’m getting… better.  At understanding creatures.  It’s harder, the larger, more intelligent they are.  Nugs are easy.  Ravens are clever, but tiny - great capability for mischief, but impulsive.  I turned into one yesterday.  It was…” her face glowed.  “I could fly.  Even Morrigan was impressed with how quickly I caught on.”  Her eyes were wicked, to hide her fear.  “Don’t worry.  I won’t cheat on you with Baron Plucky.  I’m not interested in him that way… but I did fool Leliana into thinking I was a volunteer.”  She admitted the last with a touch of guilt.

“That’s my girl. All right,” Cullen waved her to the chair before his desk.  “Go on.”  His face was only a little pinched.  “I want to hear this.”

She took a deep breath, sat, and leaned in, “Leliana received another missive yesterday… and it gave me an idea. What would you say if I told you that I could - what was the phrase - oh, yes, ‘one up’ any ranger or Ash Warrior you have among the army?”

Cullen blinked and sat down, hard. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Avexis stood up again, too restless to stay still, and strode to his arrow slit of a window, to stare out at the glacier. “Months ago, I was reading about the Emerald Knights in the Graves. They were famous for fighting alongside wolves, Cullen.”  She faced him, and folded her arms across her chest.  “I’m an elf, Commander.”

Cullen burst out laughing, “I’m aware.”

She frowned, “There’s a reason I’m like this – why I have these abilities. Once, more elves were able to do what I can do - that they worked with wolves insinuates that, n‘est-ce pas?  Don’t you see?  Solas called me a throwback-”

“Well, that’s not very nice.”

“L’Oeuf meant it as a compliment, I think,” Avexis drug her hand across her face. “The point is, I could give you a company of bears, Cullen.  Or wolves.  If you want them. If it works, we could go to the Storm Coast and try for a battalion of wild Mabari.  Mabari are harder, with fewer instincts, and more earned loyalty, but I think I can make it happen.  Perhaps not make.  I wouldn’t force them to do anything.  Ask, would be more accurate.  They would probably agree to work with the Swords of Hessarian, if nothing else…”

Cullen frowned, “Loaf?”

“L’Oeuf. It means the Egg.  Solas.  Don’t distract me.  I’ve been thinking about this all night, and it will work.  I can sense a dragon over five miles away now, and I’m getting better with practice.  I think… I think I can convince the bears to stop attacking our camps, soothe their minds, now that the rifts are gone.  Cullen - I have to try!”

“Can you afford the time?”

Avexis’ worried at her lip, “It will be… a deviation from the schedule. I don’t think that it will take long.  We can head straight for Hafter’s Woods - we don’t need to go to Redcliffe.  A direct trip - I could be back in a week, if I take the Bog Unicorn.  The Chargers are holding their own in the Hissing Wastes, and Dorian is willing to go meet them.  Cassandra… Cassandra will understand delaying our trip to Caer Oswin.  I think.”  She searched his face, and saw only bewilderment. “You think I’m crazy.”

“Of course I do, but not in this. This, I think is brilliant.” Cullen reached over the back of his chair as he stood, and swirled his cloak around his shoulders.  “Let’s go.  You go pack, and I’ll explain to Josie and Leliana.  Do you want anybody else?  Cassandra, in case the bears need punching?  Should I… try to ask Morrigan to assist?  She doesn’t care for me.”

Avexis paled, “Not Morrigan. Despite her help, she… scares me.”  But then she smiled, “Really? You’re going to back me on this?”

Cullen beamed at her, “I think it’s a wonderful idea. You might be a necromancer, by study - but this is your gift.  If you could convince them to attack Red Templars and Venatori - imagine what that would free up our troops in Ferelden to do.  Reconstruction, refugee relief… perhaps I could even get Arl Teagan off my back about the damage done to Redcliffe.”

“I think I can do that, not handle the Arl, Josie would never allow that, but…” Avexis furrowed her forehead. “Yes.” She shrugged, and he caught himself smiling at the familiar gesture.  “I can’t explain it.  But I think it will work.  They already understand the threat, after all.  The trick is convincing them after all this time that we aren’t one.”

“And I’m coming with you.”

Avexis blinked, “What? No! You can’t! You have work here…”

“I have dealings in Ferelden with potential allies,” Cullen’s eyes twinkled. He hesitated, but continued, softly, “Besides, I can show you where I grew up, if you’d like to see it.  It’s not far from Hafter‘s Woods.”

Avexis’ face softened. “I would like that.”

“Then let’s get going,” Cullen smiled. “I want to see what you can do when you try.”

 

_< EotD>_

 

Avexis approached their camp in Hafter’s Woods with a lack of caution that Cullen would have scolded any of his soldiers for. With great difficulty, he held his tongue.  She had spent more time here than he had - she knew what she was doing.

Cassandra didn’t hold back her criticism, “Avexis, you should be more careful…”

“We’re trying to find bears, not avoid them,” Avexis argued. “I’ve been talking to them for several minutes already.  I’m bringing in every willing bear in the area.”  She paused, “Is that too many ’ins’?  It doesn’t sound right.”  She glanced backwards, “Keep your swords sheathed, both of you.” Her eyes flicked to Cole.  “Cole… can you hear them?  Can you help?”

Cole shook his head, “They don’t need me.”

“Right,” they reached the camp and Avexis swung down from her horse. “I’m going outside of the camp for a bit.  I don’t want to scare the horses, and I can’t control both - the languages are different.”

Cassandra raised an eyebrow, “Languages?"

“Thoughts?” Avexis shrugged, “It’s different, for different animals. If you’re coming with me, then come.  But don’t draw your weapons.”

She strolled off deeper into the Woods, her three companions close behind, towards a cave where they had sealed a rift months before, and then sat down on her knees with her eyes closed. Dark shadows striped her face as she concentrated. 

“Do you honestly think this is going to work?” Cassandra asked, grumpily.

“It is working,” Avexis whispered, her voice strange, as if it hurt to talk. “Turn, slowly.”  Her eyes opened, glowing softly in the dim light, “And don’t punch them, Cassandra.”

The other woman sniffed, “As if I did such things.”

“It’s happened. Twice.  Not counting the varghest.  Quit denying it.”

Cullen took a step back, involuntarily touching the hilt of his sword. “Don’t attack, Commander,” Avexis managed, her voice strained.  “They’re… calm for now.”  One of them stood up, towering over Cullen.  “It’s all right,” Avexis whispered, rough with tension.  “She’s just trying to establish that she’s… equal with you.  Intimidation is an important defense for a bear.”

“Right,” Cullen gulped. “Of course she is.”  Her claws alone were the length of his hand.  “More than equal.”

Avexis giggled. “She thinks you need grooming.”

Cassandra’s mouth twitched. “Does she think the Commander is a cub?”

“A cub with mange,” Avexis giggled louder, and finally the bear fell back to her four paws. “They’re agreeing to help - even if we don’t know how to take care of our fur.  Mine is too pale - they think I’ve rolled in pollen.  They’re struggling to understand who you are, and how I can be… one of them.”  She frowned.  “Their eyes don’t work like ours, so they don’t understand heraldry.  How can I make them understand who we are?”

“Smell,” Cullen whispered, refusing to back down, or take his eyes off the bear only a few feet in front of him. “Like the demons?”

Avexis’ eyes flickered, “That will work. Give me a moment…” she closed her eyes again and concentrated, chewing on her lower lip as she thought.  When she reopened her eyes, they were dark, almost without iris.  “How much Blood Lotus do we have?  They can’t eat it, and it has a strong scent…”

“You want to give flowers to bears to keep them from attacking the camps?” Cassandra sounded skeptical.

“It will work,” Avexis assured her. “We just have to have all the scouts gather it.  As much as they can find.  And it’s better than convincing wolves to piss around the camps, which was their suggestion.  They don’t travel into wolf territory, if they can help it.”  She rose, and slowly approached the bear, one hand out.  The bear sniffed her, and then licked her palm, slow curling licks.  Cullen tried not to think about it as the bear tasting her to see if she was edible.  “We’ve established a truce,” and her shoulders drooped with relief.  “We should probably try this with the Mabaris on the Storm Coast and the wolves by Dennett’s farm.”  She swayed as she rose, the bears ambling off into the distance, going their separate ways, and Cullen rushed to support her.  “I’m all right,” she whispered.  “Just…” her eyes were wide, and slowly reformed into the ones he recognized while he watched, mildly alarmed.  “Just… I think I understand something Morrigan was trying to explain to me.  If… if I sunk deep enough, I think I could become one of them, too.”

“You think?” Cullen swallowed.

“Non, I’m sure of it.” She pulled herself away.  “I’m all right, Cullen.”

“You could become a bear?” Cassandra fretted. “How?  That’s…”

“I’ve already been a raven,” Avexis admitted to her dear friend, very reluctantly, and shivered. Cullen pulled her back towards him.  “I’m all right, Commander.” 

“Perhaps I’m not.” Avexis set a hand on his arm, worried.  “I’ll be fine.  This is… fine.”

“This is the opposite of ‘fine’. That… witch.  She’s responsible for this,” the Seeker paced.  “What has she been teaching you?  I knew Empress Celene being so ‘helpful’ would cause trouble… Orlesians.  Ugh.”

“Shh, Cassandra. Subconsciously, I already knew it could happen.  I was just… too scared to try, before.  It’s like putting on a coat, not becoming a different creature.  My mind is still my own.”  She glanced at Cole, and then looked away.

Cullen cleared his throat, “You should ask Morrigan, all the same, before you try something that… large.”

She flashed glowing eyes towards him, grinning herself out of her dark reverie, “I don’t want to alarm every scout in Skyhold, is that it?”

“They are very used to attacking every bear they see. Standing orders, remember?  We can’t lose our Inquisitor to her own orders.”

“After today, they won’t be my orders!” She brushed off her knees deliberately.  “Now, we don’t attack the bears unless they attack first.  I’ll send the dispatch myself.”

When they approached camp, Cassandra went directly into her tent, overly quiet. Cullen watched her go, his eyes creased in worry, but followed Avexis into their own, and watched her draft up the new orders, tickling her lips with the feather on the end of her quill as she searched for the right word.  “Avexis, love,” he started, not sure how to finish his thought.

How did you tell a woman that she shook the foundation of everything you thought you understood and depended on in your life, that her talents awed and frightened you, but that you wouldn’t have it any other way?

There were no words.

“Do you want to leave tomorrow for Honnleath?” She interrupted his thoughts, scrawling her signature on the bottom of the page. 

“It’s not far,” he gave up on his impossible confession, “We could even leave today - take what we need and go. If you’d… like.  It’s not like we need to worry about bears…”

Avexis snorted, “Probably. It worked on these because the rifts were sealed.  Bears don’t really talk to each other unless it’s mating season.  We’re months away.” 

He didn’t really want to know how she knew. Not after her hints about Baron Plucky.  “No rifts in Honnleath,” Cullen assured her.  “The scouts have been looking.”  He flushed, “I might have had Leliana send out a team to check out the old homestead.  I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, if there had been a rift, you would have been considered thorough,” Avexis stretched, and grabbed her bags. “Let’s pack up and roll out, then.”  She flashed him a devious look, “Just you and me?”

Cullen flushed, “That was my thought, yes.”

“I doubt Cassandra will mind leaving for Skyhold early.” Avexis grinned, “Rylen hasn’t been relocated yet, after all.”

“Rylen?” Cullen sputtered, “No!”

“Why not? She’s only a few years older.” Avexis winked, “It’s not like you’re not with an older woman, too.”

“A matter of months, not years! And he may be a friend, but he’s so… earthy,” Cullen protested.

“Cassandra’s no princess,” Avexis sighed, “And he’s trying to be sweet to her. He even wrote her a poem in the Western Approach.  Well, more something like a limerick, but he tried.  It was her kind of romantic, I suppose.  I don’t know if it will work out, but… she seems happy, and _not_ butting into our business.  She didn’t even comment when you slept in here.”

“He wrote her a… why am I not surprised?” Cullen gave up and laughed. “Fresh horses?”

“Care to share the Bog Unicorn?” Avexis batted her eyelashes, “It doesn’t get tired, and I can’t talk to it, either.  It’ll be like really being alone.”  For the first time, he noticed her preoccupation – her eyes dazed and unfocused.  “The more I understand; the less I can drown out all the extra noise.  I could use some… quiet.”  She shut her eyes.  “The Hinterlands are always so loud.  Rams, fennec, bears, birds, dragon - sometimes I swear I can even hear the fish.”

“The Bog Unicorn it is,” Cullen smiled, “I’ll make sure it’s saddled.” 

If she needed peace, he could give her the gift of quiet. He knew just the place.


	47. Mirth, Sorrow, and Love-Knots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're all getting a chapter a day early, because from tomorrow until Monday, my life is crazy.
> 
> The end of this is NSFW. Should be easy to dodge - just stop reading after the break, right to the end of the chapter.

They rode into the remains of Honnleath a few hours later, the burnt-out shells of the remaining buildings falling into ruin a mere ten years after it was abandoned. The eerie quiet of the ghost town settled over them like a thick blanket.  Cullen broke the silence, “The Golem is gone… that’s strange.” 

“Golem?”

“A statue - but it was a real Golem, once. It was… there,” he pointed to a small square halfway up a hill, but kept the Bog Unicorn walking, while he pointed elsewhere.  “My uncle’s inn was there.  Mia told me that the survivors from Honnleath sheltered in the basement there when the Darkspawn came.  My grandfather was a mage, who served with the old king.  He was granted the land as a boon.  Mam’s brother ran it after my grandmother died."

“Really?!” She twisted around to look at him. “Your grandfather was…”

“When I grew up, I was all too aware of magic.” He sighed, “The story went that the Golem killed him.  That’s what my grandmother claimed, when she sold the rod so that no one else could use it.  Magic is right there in my family tree.  My uncle’s daughter was a mage, Mia told me - her powers manifested during the Blight, and during… the troubles at Kinloch.  She was just a baby when I left.”  He squeezed her waist, and changed the subject.  “My parent’s home was on the other side of the village, out of town a way.  Mum liked her privacy.”  He cleared his throat, “It won’t be as fancy as Val Royeaux or Montsimmard.”

“It’s…” Avexis searched for the right word, “It’s where you’re from,” she decided. “It doesn’t have to be fancy.”

Cullen smiled, a little reassured, “That’s good.” The Unicorn ambled on through town, past the inn and soon enough they were past the wide spot in the road, and into a more forested area.  Cullen turned them down a grown-over track.  “My parent’s farm was this way,” he cleared his throat.  “It’s… changed less than I thought it would.”

They approached a tiny, slanting building, and Avexis leaned back against his body. “Is that…”

“No!” Cullen laughed, “That’s just a small outbuilding. The farmland has grown over… I shouldn’t be so surprised, after so many years…”  He relaxed when she didn’t respond negatively, and glanced down at her.  She appeared to be excited, her eyes flashing into the darker shadows of the woods.  He turned the corner, and a simple round house with what looked like a loft, judging by the windows peeking from under the shingled roof, appeared.

“Oh!” Avexis exclaimed, bouncing a little in the saddle. “Is that…”

“Yes,” Cullen stammered, “It’s… in better shape than I expected.” He dismounted, and helped her down, and moved towards the house.  “Needs a few shingles.  But even the windows aren’t broken.  I expected them to be gone entirely.”

Avexis took a deep breath, “Did your parents… die here?”

Cullen stopped, “Oh. Probably not in the house, surely?  And there aren’t any rifts…”  He closed his eyes, grief covering his face.  “Mam.  Da.”

Avexis cleared her throat, “You’d best let me go first. Or better yet…” she closed her eyes and two crows fluttered down from the roof.  “’One for sorrow, two for mirth,’” she quoted to him, smiling, “They say there’s nothing in the house but mice and dust.”

Cullen relaxed, “That’s… good. I didn’t think about… them before bringing you here.”  He sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck.  “There was always a spare key under the rock by the front steps.”  He nodded at the stone foundation that led up to the door.  “Shall we see if…”

Avexis approached, lifted the rock, and exclaimed, “Cullen! It’s still here!” She beamed like she had found a treasure, and he smiled, despite the mixed feelings coming home, after all this time, had unearthed.  “That’s amazing!”

“We never saw a lot of crime out here. Not before the Blight, anyway.”  He stared back at the house, eyes soft.  “Surprising how little things change, and yet how much.”

Avexis reached over and squeezed his hand before depositing the key in it. “Go ahead, Cullen.”

Cullen cleared his throat and turned the lock, resisting a bit with rust and disuse. The door creaked open, whining loudly on its hinges and making the curious crows retreat to a nearby pine tree, where they set up a raucous complaint.  Avexis made a face at them, and they quieted.

Cullen stepped inside, and ten years of dust billowed up around his feet, puffing out. He coughed.  “Mam would die, seeing her house in this state.”

Avexis laughed, but softly. “I don’t imagine people came back, after.”

“There weren’t many to come back at all. I’m mainly surprised it’s even here,” Cullen furrowed his brow, “Most of Honnleath burnt.  I don’t think Surana got this far South, except for Ostagar, and… and yet, the worst this house has is mice and moss on the roof?”

Avexis was making her way further inside, “Mon Créateur, Cullen, they left everything.  All the furniture… even the homes in the Fallow Mire were more picked over.”

“They were more worried about my sisters and brother getting out safely than they were about things,” Cullen sighed, and wrinkled his nose at the still air. “I’m going to open some windows, air it out.”  He made his way through the house, and unlocked and propped the back door open.  “Mam loved those windows,” he muttered, as if reminding himself.

Avexis frowned, puzzled.

“Windows that open -” Cullen tried to explain. “Look where we lived, Ladybird.  Glass windows were a luxury, and Da designed them so she could open them.”

She frowned, “Oh.” She looked rueful, “I’m sorry, Cullen.  I…”

He shook his head, “It’s all right. I don’t mind.”  He wrestled with a window, and it groaned upward, slowly.  He looked up into the rafters.  “I think I’ll sweep, and then… do you maybe want to go for a walk?  I have a place I want to show you.”

Avexis held up a finger, “Un moment.” There was a skittering sound, and several mice darted out of the door.  She opened her eyes, “Sorry, I don’t like… vermin.”  Her lip curled, while outside a few extra birds made a racket about the unprecedented feast.

Cullen laughed, “No apologies needed. My mother would bless your heart.  Cassandra said that Montsimmard never had a rat problem.”

“Rats are at least intelligent,” Avexis blushed, and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Mice… mice are just dirty, disgusting creatures.  They’ve never seen anything as scary as I make myself to them.”

“Mam would have loved you.”

Avexis sighed, and touched the tip of her ear, self-conscious. “Is there a broom?  You sweep, and I’ll get water, and we’ll clean up, before we take a walk.”  She grimaced, “Non.  Mopping will wait.  I’ll burn the bedding while you sweep.  You would not believe how messy mice are.  Maker, they’re everywhere...” she shuddered.

“Check the loft for the rest of the bedding,” Cullen moved towards the kitchen alcove, peering into the corner where his mother had kept her broom, “Branson and I slept up there.”

“My Commander’s bedroom?” Avexis lifted an eyebrow, “I don’t suppose I’ll find secrets?”

“Maybe Branson’s,” Cullen wielded the broom precisely, as if it were an extension of himself, “But not mine. Unless Mam kept…” he stopped, “She would have,” he admitted.  “She would have kept everything.”

“I won’t look,” Avexis promised, and then winked, “Unless you want me to.”

“Go ahead, Ladybird,” Cullen laughed, “I don’t have anything to hide from you.”

Avexis raised an eyebrow, “No naked pictures of girls?”

Cullen flushed, “I don’t think… it’s been a long time. But… I was thirteen.”

Avexis shrugged, “At thirteen I had plenty of pictures of boys under my mattress, and in my chest. And one under my pillow.”

Cullen choked, “Under your…”

“I worked hard on it!” She protested.

“You… drew…”

She frowned, “Didn’t you?”

Cullen sputtered, “Yes, well…”

“The anatomy was way off,” Avexis admitted, thinking back. “I could do a better job, now, but I’m out of practice.”  She winked, “Care to be a model, Commander?”

“Demon,” Cullen laughed, and grabbed the broom laying against the kitchen wall - the straw chewed down in places by the mice, but still good enough to work. “No.  Just no.”

Avexis laughed, and scaled the ladder that led to the loft. Her soft exclamations of disgust drifted down, a musical litany of Orlesian curses, and he heard a window screech a protest at being opened, and then a whuffled thump as she tossed blankets and other ruined objects down through it.  “There’s a chest up here with your name on it,” she called down.  “But it’s locked.  And yes, Cullen, I am that nosy.”

“The key will be in Mam’s chest. She… probably wanted Ros and Bran to stay out of it.”  He made his way to the two small backrooms, and peeked inside.  “She stripped her bed,” he muttered, eyes prickling.  “Just like Mam, to clean the house completely before the darkspawn could get to it.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Cullen sighed, and called back, “Just… memories.”

Her head appeared over the loft, “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Cullen managed a small smile. “My Mam cleaned for the darkspawn.  I can just imagine my Da, frustrated while she wiped down the kitchen…”

“She was a wise woman,” sniffed Avexis. “She didn’t know she wasn’t going to be back.  She didn’t want to come home to mold and dirty dishes.”  She swung down from the loft gracefully.  “Where’s her chest?”

Cullen lifted an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Going through my mother’s things, now?”

Avexis frowned, “I’m only looking for the key…”

Cullen laughed, and waved her through, “She’d want them to be used. She hated waste, my Mam. It’s through here, Ladybird.  You never struck me as a busybody. Cassandra, definitely, but not you. You keep surprising me.”

“Just… used to scavenging,” Avexis hung her head. “In the field, we take what we find, if it looks abandoned. Varric says that if we kill them, we get to keep their stuff **.** I don’t want to anger your sister, though.  She… has enough reason to dislike me already.”

Cullen shook his head, “I doubt Mia would want any of it, if she hasn’t already come looking. And she’s in too much awe of you in general to object.  Not to mention grateful, for saving her stubborn brother from his own intractability. You see how I grew up. I don’t know why you think Mia’s expectations reach higher than the Inquisitor.” Cullen gave her a lopsided smile and took her hand.  “Let’s go see what Mam left behind.” 

He led her through the door, and frowned at the chest for a moment, running his hands along the flat lid, only to slide a small strip of wood one way, and then shift another up. “My Da was good with wood.”  He smiled, “He made her the chest, as a wedding gift.”  The lid creaked up.  “More secure than a Fereldan lock, unless you know the secret, and far less expensive.”

On the top of the chest was a lover’s knot, in two pieces. Avexis touched it with a single finger.  “I’ve seen these before.  Is this a Fereldan thing?”

Cullen cleared his throat, “Yes. My parents - they couldn’t afford wedding rings.  They exchanged those, instead – it’s something like what the Avvar do, apparently.  Mam almost always carried hers, and Da was the same way.”  He frowned, “Why didn’t they take them with them?”

“They were devoted,” Avexis said softly. “It’s a lovely tradition.”

Cullen shook his head, laughing, “You just like it because it’s like knitting.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Not a thing, Ladybird,” Cullen stated firmly. “Don’t mind me.  It’s just… a mystery.”  They made short work of the other things - mostly linens and clothes that smelled strongly of cedar, including an ancient dress embroidered with flowers at the base of the skirt.  At the bottom of the chest was a note.

“For my children,” Cullen read softly. “Mam’s handwriting.”

Avexis cleared her throat, suppressing her curiosity.

Cullen glanced at her, “I suppose I still count. I’ll… send it to Mia, after.”

“It’s your decision,” Avexis whispered, but shifted closer, to try to read over his shoulder.

Cullen opened the letter, the old parchment crinkling in his hands.

 

_Dear Mia, Cullen, Branson, and Rosalie,_

_If you’re getting this, you came home, after the Blight ended. I’m glad you got the chance.  We’re both dead, but you know that.  Your Da died instantly - a darkspawn knocked him down.  That was two days ago now, and I killed the one that done it.  Got my vengeance, Mia, Bran, so don’t you go holding on to hate.  My arrows still fly true, after all these years._

_I don’t want to let the Blight turn me into one of them, so I’m not giving them the opportunity. Besides, I don’t want your Da to wait too long for me on the other side.  I can’t be without him, not after all this time.  Can’t do it, plain and simple._

_So… this here’s my last wishes for all of you. Mia - I know you’re headed to good things.  The Maker wouldn’t have made you so stubborn otherwise.  Don’t know if you’ll hang on to your young man, but I hope you have the sense.  He may not be a hero, but he’s a keeper.  You get my chest, Mia-of-mine.  You know how much I loved it, and it’ll do you some good._

_Bran, you get your father’s tools. He would have wanted that.  I moved the box into the house for safe keeping.  You’re good with your hands, son.  Don’t keep wasting them on married women?  And yes, I knew all along.  Did you honestly think you could fool me? I was sneaking out of my father’s inn long before you were born.  Wild oats are one thing, and faithfulness is another.  Don’t let temptation take you somewhere you don’t really want to go._

_Rosalie, you get my mother’s jewelry. Don’t just sell it.  You might want it for other things than the easy money one day.  Some things are more important than money._

_Cullen - I find it unlikely that you’ll ever read this, but Mia’s real good about keeping in touch with you, and I know she’ll follow through on my wishes. I want you to have your father’s and mine love-knot.  I know, I know, you’re a Templar, and Templars don’t need anyone or anything but Andraste and their duty - blah, blah, blah, religion - but let a mother have her secret hopes.  Chantry doesn’t say you can’t marry, after all.  Just says you have to get permission.  Pick a good one for me, Cull.  One that sees past your inability to talk to the opposite sex without stammering and holds out for you anyway.  Worked for me and your Da._

_I want you all to split the proceeds, if you decide to sell the house and land. I hope you don’t – your father always hoped one of you would stay - but you all have different destinies than ending up the back of beyond like your Da and me.  That’s what we wanted, not you.  So don’t hold on, if you don’t want to.  Someday, even after the Blight, things will live here again.  I have faith - and that’s what it’s all about, here at the end._

_Don’t worry, I’m not going to mess up my clean floors by doing anything stupid here. I’m going to trek to Redcliffe to do the job.  Word is one extra corpse there won’t be anything amiss.  Wish I could have a pyre with your Da - but I took care of him already._

_I love you all, and I know your Da did too. Live well, all of you._

_Your Mother,_

_Eileen Rutherford_

 

Cullen dropped the letter, his hand shaking. “Mam,” he whispered, chuckling, but with tears in his eyes.  “Damn it, she knew all of us too well.  Bran was carrying on with someone else’s too-young wife just before the Blight, Mia said.  And Mia… she was thinking about dumping her young man, because she wasn’t sure if he was serious or not.  Maker, her husband was a git as a kid… wonder if he’s changed.” he shook his head, and lifted up the love-knot, clearing his throat.  “So… my mother, in her infinite wisdom,” his voice was deadly serious, “left you a present, too, Ladybird.”

“What?” Avexis sorted through the items on the floor for the key. She found it, wrapped in a knitted shawl that she lifted, looking at the design curiously. “What do you mean?”

Cullen handed out the right side of the love-knot. “This is yours.”

Avexis dropped both letter and key. “I… couldn’t, Cullen.  Your mother meant that for the person you marry, and I… you know I can’t…”

“It belongs to you, whether you take it or not. I won’t be giving it to anyone else. My heart is yours.  She told me to pick a good one.”  Cullen’s face was stern.  Avexis flicked her eyes up to his, her own wide and scared.  “I have.”

She reached out, hand trembling, and took the knot. “What does it mean?”

Cullen laughed, “That I’ll love you as long as the knot holds. That’ll be forever - Mam was bloody good at knots, and Da tried hard to keep up - I get my stubborn nature from his side of the family.  With her skills and his determination, it’ll last until the next age.”  He reached out and pressed her to his side.

Avexis smiled and let herself be caught up against him. “We probably can’t haul the whole chest back with us.  Even the unicorn has limits.”

“We’ll send a raven requesting scouts, for the chest, and Da’s tools. I’ll write to Mia and send them on if she says she wants them.”  Cullen cleared his throat. “You’ll hold on to Ros’s jewelry, won’t you?”  Avexis nodded.  He bent and picked up the key and the letter.  “All right then,” he fisted the key tight.  “I’m going to go get in my chest.  See what ghosts are waiting for me there.”  He squeezed her shoulder with his spare hand.  “Give me a minute?”

Avexis nodded. “I’ll just finish sweeping.  And discourage the living mice further.”

His old chest was filled with the sort of treasures that children collect: a broken geode with crystals as purple as her eyes, his old copy of the Chant of Light, given to him by his father’s mother, a feather he remembered claiming was a griffon’s to Mia (with adult eyes it was obvious that it was an eagle’s), and a stack of… inappropriate sketches – not his handiwork, not that it made it better - with another note from his mother that said nothing more than ‘ _I raised you better than this. Serves you right if Mia snoops and finds these, Cull.’_

It took more than a few minutes for Cullen to compose himself after that. When he reentered the main room, he found his Ladybird curled up on the floor, focusing on a fennec.  Quietly he watched her, making funny sounds while the fox squeaked back.  She nodded, and sighed.  “Thank you,” she said in Common and the fox chattered at her and then slunk away out the open back door, casting a wary eye back at him.

“What was that about?”

“Asking him to keep an eye on the place for us… you.” Avexis corrected. flushing. “He has cousins in Redcliffe, and they have cousins in Northern Ferelden… and so on to Skyhold.  Anyone bothers this place, we’ll know - surprisingly quickly.  The birds are going to do the same thing.”

“Thank you,” Cullen cleared his throat, “Ready for that walk?”

Avexis looked up at him backwards and he bent way down to kiss her. “No ghosts in the loft?”

“Not a one, just… funny memories, mostly,” Cullen shifted towards the door. “I’ve been looking forward to showing you this place for a while, love.”

Avexis tilted her head suspiciously, even while coloring at the new nickname, but nodded. “All right then. Lead on, Commander.”

Cullen tightened his hand around the item in his pocket and took a deep breath. “First left you see down the lane.”  He grabbed their packs, and shut the back door before the fox could make his way back in.  “We’ll be back,” he said, under his breath, to whatever might be listening.

They walked an overgrown trail towards the mountains, and Avexis sniffed, smelling… “Cullen, do I smell sulfur?”

“Perhaps,” he grinned. “We’re almost there.”

They slipped through a gap in two cliffs and Avexis gasped, “Hot springs? Here?”

A waterfall fell into the pools, hissing and steam rising around it. “Better than an Orlesian spa,” Cullen sounded smug.  He flushed, “This is where I spent my last night before the Templars collected me.  I spent a lot of time here.  It was quiet.”  He took a deep breath, “You did say you wanted quiet?”

Avexis wandered to the end of the dock and dipped her fingers in. “So warm…” she marveled.

“The closer to the waterfall, the greater difference in the temperatures. Hottest is off to the right,” he nodded towards the tangle of vines on the far wall of the cliff.  “The springs come out there.”

She grinned at him, “Then what are we waiting for?” She started to undo her clasps.  “Come on, Cullen.  Let’s go… what did Bull call it… ‘skinny-dipping’?”

“Just a second,” Cullen cleared his throat. “I… want to give you something.”  He took the coin out of his pocket, and inflated his chest with bravery.  “Here.”

“A… coin?” Avexis twisted it between slender fingers.

“It’s… Bran gave it to me, before I left for the Templars. Told me that it would keep me safe.  It’s the only thing I kept.  Templars are supposed to be above such things.  We didn’t keep personal possessions that the Chantry didn’t provide.  We’re meant to leave our prior lives behind,” Cullen flushed.  “The good luck charm got me through Kinloch.  Through Kirkwall.  We don’t know what you’ll face before - the end.”  His voice was low.  “I want you to have it.”

“Cullen,” Avexis smiled, “I thought I was the superstitious one.”

“We have more in common than you thought,” he laughed. “I… understood about the halla.”

“Why do you have one in your office then?”

“Sera. I think she thought it was ironic.  It’s not like she cares if Halamshiral falls.  She despises the Empress.  When it appeared, it seemed rude to dispose of it.”

“Ah, that explains much. She has one, too.”  Avexis took the coin, looking at the worn image of Andraste.  “I don’t want to take your luck.  It’s not like I’d do any better without you if… the worst happens. Worse, even.  You’d just lose a figurehead.  I’d lose the love of my life and the Commander of my armies.”

“Oh,” Cullen flushed, but pressed it into her hand. “I… still want you to have it.  You walk into danger every day – I know, because I send you there.  This trip - I wanted to take you away from that, if only for a while.” He smiled, looking down at their linked hands, “Safest place I know, as well as the quietest.”

Avexis closed her fingers over it. “I’ll keep it safe.  For you.  But you’d better take twice the care, and half the risks!”

“Thank you,” he smiled, and bent down to kiss her, and then shifted her gapping vest off her shoulders. She pulled away, laughing, to drop the clothing to the dock, setting the coin carefully on top, and pulled off her shirt.  Cullen smirked, and fumbled to undo his laces, and strip off his pants, smallclothes at the same time.  Cullen dove in, but Avexis stopped just before the edge of the dock.  She dipped a toe in, the water’s reflection shimmering over her skin in an otherworldly glow, the light from her mark tinting her skin pale green.

Cullen caught his breath, eyes dropping down to her legs, and one delicate foot, as she settled on the edge of the dock. She caught his eye and flushed.  “If it’s deep enough for you to dive, it’s too deep for me,” she kicked her legs, frustrated.  “I can’t swim.”

Cullen crawled back over to the edge of the dock. “Easily solved.  Come here.”  He held up his arms.  “I’ll keep you safe, Inquisitor.”

“How will you swim, holding me?”

“I’ll manage. Treading water is mostly legs.”

She turned and slipped off the dock, holding on with white knuckles. “Cullen… don’t let my head go under!” He grasped her around the waist, and nibbled on the back of her neck.  “Oh!” In her surprise, she let go of the dock and slid down.  “Cullen, you play dirty.”  Her arms tightened around his.

“I wouldn’t have dragged you out here, just to let you drown.” She turned and clung to him.  “Trust me?”

“I trust you,” she whispered. “It’s the water I don’t trust.”  Her arms tightened around his neck, breasts and body pressed up against him tight.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he instructed.  She raised an eyebrow.  “Maybe later,” he laughed at her naughty mind.  “I want to take you to the waterfall.”

She frowned, “It will be colder there.”

“Hothouse orchid?”

“That’s Dorian.” She shifted down, though, and wrapped around him.  “Wouldn’t it help if I… kicked?”

“Just trust me,” Cullen kissed her, and she relaxed enough to kiss him back, and he moved his hands away from her thighs to paddle backwards, her propped on his chest like a clam on an otter. But this way he could see her glowing eyes in the dim light, and brighter smile.  “Enjoying yourself?”

“Yes,” she whispered, and let go of his neck to touch his cheek. “It’s beautiful here.  I wish we never had to leave.”  Her fingers twisted in his wet curls.  “I like you this way - so relaxed.”

“I’m glad.” His breath moved out of his chest as he felt the first splatters of cold water.  “It’s shallower here, with rocks,” he stood up, showing her, and felt her let go.  The surface was still to the top of her breasts.  He stroked her waist with his thumb, and she shivered.  “Too cold?”

“Non,” she threw him an arch glance, “Too hot, and you know it, Templar.”

He smirked, “Sorry.”

“Don’t lie.”

“Not sorry at all,” he admitted, and let his hand drift lower, to cup her backside. She wriggled against him, slippery, and inviting.  “I thought we might…”

“Sweet Maker, yes,” she twined her arms around his neck and pressed against his chest. “You won’t let me drown?”

“Never.”

 

_< EotD>_

 

As romantic encounters, Cassandra would definitely approve, Avexis thought briefly, before Cullen lifted her up to latch onto a breast, hungry and already hard with wanting. He flicked her breast with his tongue and she pressed the back of his head further into herself.

Cullen had steered them towards a cliff wall, and she was pressed against him, hot water on one side and cool splashing from the waterfall, raising gooseflesh while he nipped his way down lower. “Really?”  She whispered, amused.  “You are so determined, Cullen.”

“Not if you don’t want…”

“Go ahead,” He lifted her up into the chilly air, and placed her legs around his neck, tipping her back, and licked, slowly, parting folds and playing with her nerves. “Mmmm,” she hummed, content, and reached for her own breast.  “Don’t stop.”

He glanced up, grinning, his mouth wet. “Reach for the vine above you.  And hold on.  Tight.”

She obeyed, and he continued his assault, winding around in slow torment, and then penetrating, only to retreat to flick at the nub persistently, and then suck, hard, while releasing one of her thighs to enter with a single finger, curling and pressing. “Maker…” her legs quivered.

“See me kneel,” Cullen answered, eyes dark above her mound. “I love you,” he breathed, and slid another digit in, stretching her tight.   “I want to love you for the rest of my days.”

“Who am I to argue?” She arched above him as he twisted his fingers and she called out into the steamy air, unable to stifle the noise.

“No one to hear you here,” he pulled her down. “Make more noise, Ladybird.”  He shifted her and entered, pushing her against the wall.  “You want to, I can tell.  You were never meant to be quiet.”  His eyes bored into hers as he thrust.  “Tell me.”

“Je t’aime,” she managed to say it aloud.

“Again,” he ordered.

“I love you,” she cried out. He grabbed both of her thighs, arching his back and she burst around him, rocking and repeating, “Cullen, my love, Cullen…”

Slowly they stopped, and she wrapped her shaky arms around him again, holding him tight. “Souffle de Créateur,” she whispered.

“You never told me what that means,” he laughed, and kissed her forehead, and then her temple. “Good?”

“Best.” She laughed.  “It means ‘Maker’s Breath’.  I’m trying to start a new Orlesian trend.”

“You…” Cullen shook his head against hers, and then turned, slipping out of her body with a sigh. “Come on, Ladybird.  Climb on.  Let’s go…” he stopped.

“Let’s go… home?” she completed.

“Home,” he whispered, and then sighed. “For the night, anyway.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, and wrapped her legs around his middle, pressed up against his back.

“Can’t we stay a few days?” Avexis pouted against his ear, and then nipped his earlobe. “I like it here.  Best place in Ferelden.  I even like it better than Skyhold.  Except for the mice.”

“I’m afraid not,” Cullen mourned, as he swam back to the dock. “But… we’ll be back.”  He helped her up to the dock, and kissed her ankle.  “After?”

Avexis hesitated, and then nodded, “After.” And then she frowned.  “If after is good.”

“The Inquisitor better get on with it and defeat Corypheus,” Cullen sassed. She reached up a foot to the top of his head and shoved him under the water, sputtering.

“Have more respect,” she ordered, mouth pursed to hide her smile. He tugged on her ankle and she fell back in, but he pulled her to the surface and kissed her before she could complain.  She rested her head against his, and whispered.  “I’ll work on it.  If it means having you.”

Cullen held her tighter. “I will do whatever it takes.  I swear.”

“As will I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter - and the next - deal with a couple headcanons iduna and I have about the Rutherfords and Cullen's mother.
> 
> Like I said in the chapter, I think Cullen was related somehow to the innkeeper in Honnleath - Wilhelm's son - same blond hair (at least in Inquisition), same brown eyes. No one looks that much alike in a small town, unless they are related.
> 
> Plus, there's the whole thing where the Templars didn't take him until he was 13. That's... really old to start training. I think they knew his ancestry - small town, again, and trust me, everyone knows everything about everyone else in a small town - and didn't take him because they had to make sure he wasn't a mage. Runs in families, after all. 
> 
> Monday's chapter will have more headcanons about the Rutherfords and how they got their last name. :)


	48. Stories, Glyphs, and Big Decisions

That night, they laid awake on the floor in the main room, huddled up in their bedrolls, watching the fire in the hearth crackle and spit. “Cullen… can I ask a question?”

“Anything."

“Your last name. Most of the Fereldans I’ve met don’t have one, unless they’re nobility. They go by where they’re from, or their family’s occupation.  You have one... but Rutherford isn’t a place, is it?”

Cullen chuckled, and pulled her closer. “No.   Or if there was, then the river it crossed long since dried up. No, there’s a story, but I don’t know how true it is.”

She wriggled over until she was facing him. “Tell me?”

Cullen sighed, “It was a long time ago – during the time that King Calenhad was uniting the Banns. The story goes that he came to a river – one too deep and swift for his army to ford.  His scouts hunted for a place to cross for days, to no avail.”  He paused, remembering his father’s voice, low and skeptical, as he recited the story. “And then my ancestor, Ruther, out hunting a wolf that had been eating his goats, stumbled upon an entire army.”  He laughed, “As my father told it, Ruther was seven feet tall, with arms like oak trees, and a mane of hair wilder than any lion’s.”

Avexis made an interested noise, “He sounds handsome.”

Cullen squeezed her, “Quiet, or I’ll stop.”

“No, you won’t, you want to tell me.”

He laughed, “Perhaps.” He rolled over to his back, and Avexis propped herself on his chest. “As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, Ruther towered over Calenhad.  He offered to show them where to cross, and the King accepted.  But as they were crossing, a sudden rush of water came down from the Frostbacks, Calenhad’s horse was swept out from underneath him, and the King – weighed down by his armor – sank like a stone.”

Avexis gasped, “Non!”

Cullen chuckled, “Yes. Ruther never hesitated. He plunged into the water and dove, to find the King all twisted up with river weeds, and pinned by a log.  Ruther threw away the log, ripped away the weeds, and hauled the king to the surface – still in full armor.” He snorted, “Rather unbelievable, no matter how strong he was.”

Avexis shoved him. “What happened then?”

“Calenhad, overwhelmed with gratitude, granted him the last name ‘Rutherford’, and these lands.” Cullen snorted, “Assuming, of course, that he had already conquered them.”

“That’s amazing!”

“It’s not true, Ladybird. Stories about King Calenhad in Ferelden are a copper a dozen.  They can’t all be true.  More likely than not the last name and the story were just… made up along the way, by an ancestor with pretensions.  We’ve had this land forever, though.  The remains of the older houses are just… further away from the road.  Dangerous things, and liable to collapse.  Da was better with wood.”

Avexis was quiet, until, “Then why were they so specific? Why not just call themselves ‘Ford’?”

Cullen shrugged, “Only Ruther knows, and he’s long gone to the Maker.”

“I believe it,” Avexis thrust out her chin. “I don’t have a last name at all, so I’d claim the story, if I were you. And Calenhad’s ruins are barely a day away.  Some of the stories have to be true.  Why not this one?”

Cullen was quiet, but wrapped his arms around her back. “I suppose they do, Ladybird.  I suppose they do.”

Avexis kept going, “Besides, I can see you having an ancestor with arms like oak trees.”

Cullen shook with laughter. “That’s the part I do believe.  Da’s arms were just like that.”  His mouth twisted.  “And his hair was like a bird’s nest on a good day.”

 

 

_< EotD>_

 

Before they left the next morning Avexis sat down in the middle of the house and closed her eyes. It was the first time she had attempted to ground and center here, and it felt very… safe.  Safer than it should.

She went through her exercises easily, even the noise of the constant wildlife somewhat muffled.

Then, something caught her attention. Her eyes snapped open and she turned her head.  Around her, just like at Skyhold, she could see subtle magical charms and protections woven everywhere. The loft ladder, the hearth, the windows… Even the thatching on the roof was magically protected.

It wasn’t a coincidence that the house still stood.

“Cullen!” She scrambled to her feet, as Cullen burst in from the back garden – such as it was – and his self-appointed task of removing the debris from the well.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Avexis hissed.

“Tell you what?” He was bewildered, confused. “Are you hurt?”

“Non! I’m fine. ” She waved her hand around.  “It’s everywhere.  There is magic everywhere in this house.  Your mother was a hedge mage!”

Cullen snorted, “No, she wasn’t.”

“Yes, she was.” Avexis dragged him to the ladder. “She charmed this ladder, right here, look.” She pointed to a small rune for safety etched into the ladder rungs.  “This was to keep you and Branson from falling.”

Cullen sputtered, “No, that’s just…”

Avexis narrowed her eyes and pointed at the hearth. “This one guarded the house from flying embers. This house will never catch fire from its own chimney.  You can’t see it, but I can – it’s etched into the stones of the hearth!”  She spun and pointed at the windows, “The glass won’t break. If anyone tries to get in through there, it will end badly for them. There is magic in the roof. Weeds are never going to ruin the thatching.”  Cullen had gone white.  “Glyphs and runes are everywhere, Cullen.  In the rafters, in the doorframes…” Avexis gave a small chuckle. “She was very good at what she did. She may never have cast a spell, but you mother worked magic all the same.”

Cullen collapsed into the chair next to the fire. “No, she couldn’t have been.  How could I have missed…”

“She was subtle. No doubt her father showed her how to hide! Apostates…”

“My mother was not an apostate.” Cullen covered his eyes.

“A hedge witch, then.” Avexis folded her arms stubbornly. “You don’t believe me.”

“She might have had her father…”

“Magic feels like the person who cast it.” Avexis hesitated, “I don’t know how else to explain it. This magic loves you, Cullen. It was waiting for you, or your siblings, to return.  The house woke up when you came back.”  She frowned, “How old were you when the Templars agreed to let you join?”

“Thirteen.”

“They waited until they knew you were unlikely to manifest magic. With your grandfather…”

Cullen clutched at the arms of the chair. “No.”

“Cullen, it’s nothing to be ashamed…”

“I’m not ashamed!” He stood in a minute and the heavy chair nearly overturned. “She just wasn’t… that. We would have known.  She would have told us.  Why would she let me go to the Chantry if…” his words trailed off.  “No. She wasn’t.  She couldn’t be.”

Avexis pressed her lips together. “Fine.” She turned away, and said nothing else.

In a few hours, they rode away, the silence between them something heavy and colder than the summer air should have been.

They were almost to the Crossroads before Cullen spoke, “There were glyphs, you say?”

“Yes.” Avexis rode against him stiffly. “All for safety and preservation. The only one even slightly malicious was the one on the windows. That was directed solely towards intruders. There was no blood magic, Cullen.  Just… natural mana.”

Cullen was quiet. “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean…”

“You never mean anything,” Avexis said, very quietly. “But you say it, nonetheless.”

“I’m trying. It just comes as a… shock.” He shook his head. “I insulted you.”

“Yes.”

“I am sorry, Ladybird.”

“I know. It still hurts.” Avexis drew a shuddery breath. “I love you. But how can you say you love me and want to be with me forever, when you keep saying these things?” She shook her head, and ordered, “Stop the unicorn.  I want to walk for a bit, before we get to camp.”

Cullen reined in the unicorn, and she slid down before he could help her. He dismounted and walked beside her for a little while.  In a bit he cleared his throat, “So is that it, then?  Are you… ending this?”

“What?” Avexis glanced at him. “Oh.” She frowned. “I don’t know what to do.  I love you.  I’m just… tired of being hurt for who I am.”

“I’m tired of being the one who hurts you.”

Abruptly, she stopped walking, and turned away from the path, heading into the forest. Confused, Cullen followed after a moment, unwilling to ask where she was going.

She wandered up a small rise, on a path that Cullen might never have seen at all, until she came to an abrupt stop in front of a skull on a stick. “That’s an ocularum,” he said uncomfortably.

“That could have been me.” She said it simply. “In another life. If Galyan hadn’t kept me with him, I would have gone with the rebels as so many other Tranquil did, and when Alexius made his bargain, someone might have sold me – just another Tranquil, after all, no one special – to the Venatori.” She pressed the back of her hand against an eye, but not before a tear leaked out.  “I never found out which mages did it.  It was one of them. But the trail is cold, and the rebels take care of their own. They still don’t trust me.”  She glanced at him, “No one trusts me.  I don’t fit anywhere.  I’m not a city elf, or Dalish. I’m not a rebel, or a loyalist – not any more. I’m not Tranquil, and I’m not even chosen by Andraste. There is no Circle, and I can barely claim to be Orlesian.  I don’t belong anywhere.”

Cullen was quiet for a moment but spoke, soft, “You belong with me?”

“How can you say that?”

“Listen, will you?” He took a breath, “I don’t fit either. I’m not a Templar any longer. I haven’t seen my family in more than a decade. I haven’t lived in my home country for nearly as long. I’m… out of place and I have no idea where I will go or what I will do after the Inquisition.  I know one thing – that whatever that is, wherever I go, I want you with me.”  He knelt on the moss before her, “And even though I say the stupidest things, I keep hoping that it’s what you want, too.”  He took her hand. “Asking for your forgiveness isn’t enough. But I will beg for it, if that’s what it takes.” He felt something hard in her palm, and realized she was holding the coin.  He traced it with his fingers.  “I would give my life to keep you safe.  And not because you’re a mage and I’m a Templar.  It’s not because you’re the Inquisitor and I command your armies. It’s not even because Cassandra will kill me in a very painful way if you’re hurt. It’s because I love you, and my hand feels very empty if it’s not holding yours.”

Her tears were running freely now, and she cupped his face. “Your hand is empty without mine? Oh, Cullen, that’s...”

“I want all of you. You weren’t you without your magic.  You were Tranquil, and Avexis isn’t Tranquil.  Her magic is part of who she is.  I won’t ask you to hide it, or stifle it, or-”

Avexis hugged him around the neck. Cullen closed his eyes. “I’m not ending this, Cullen. I could say unkind things about Templars, too.  Things that are true.  And I could say things about mages that are unkind.  Things that are true.” The words were nearly whispered into his ear. “That blood mages hurt you is the worst.  They hurt me, too.”  She pulled back and kissed his forehead.  “But perhaps… perhaps we should both start looking at the past differently.  Perhaps we should start saying ‘It was this way and it was wrong.  What can we change?’” She laughed, ever so slightly, “We’re in a position to change a few things. The Chantry wants me to back someone for Divine.  I could choose someone who would do things differently.  Make something better?”  She shrugged, “I don’t really know what that could be.  I don’t even understand why they’re asking.  But I can give my opinion, and see if they care.”  She reached in her pocket and pulled out the love knot to hold in her other hand. “And if it all goes – how did Varric put it?  Oh, yes, ‘to pot’, then I’ll still have you.  Somehow.  We can both fight, if we must, to make something different.  We’re doing that now, oui?”  She pursed her lips, “After all, what’s another war, more or less?  I think we’re fighting at least three already…”

Cullen nodded, and leaned in, to press his forehead against hers. “I’ll fight, at your back, for however long we have to.”

“Good,” Avexis winced, “Of course, that means I will not be making Vivienne Divine. Her goals are obvious.”

“Madame de Fer is a candidate?”

“Oui. And stronger than you might think.”

“Who does that leave?”

Avexis pulled away and raised her eyebrow, “Revered Mother Iona, Leliana, and… Cassandra.”

“She’d kill you.”

“Leliana? Without hesitation, if she thought it was necessary.  She is Orlesian, after all.”

“Ladybird…” Cullen huffed, “You know who I mean.”

“I’ll talk to them both. And pray.  This sort of… selection shouldn’t be made blindly.”  Avexis looked out, and Cullen followed her eyes to see the massive statue of Andraste that towered above the Crossroads.  “Our Lady will guide me,” she whispered, “If I’m meant to decide this.”

He smiled, realizing her reason for stopping here wasn’t as simple as staring at the ocularum. “I’ll support you, whatever you decide.” 

“Bon. I suspect I will need it.” She pressed up on his shoulders and rose. “Come on. We have to get to the camp before nightfall, and I’ve brooded long enough, n’est-ce pas?”  Avexis playfully kissed Cullen on the nose. “Besides, I’m looking forward to see how you intend to beg for forgiveness.”

“That would be the part you’d latch on to.” Cullen offered his hand and she grasped it, rising gracefully to her feet.  “Come on, Ladybird.  Let’s go.”


	49. A Misuse of Inquisition Resources

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorrynotsorry, but this chapter is mostly smut, until after the break. Featuring Naughty Cullen, so if that isn't your thing, you'll want to skip it. It is called 'a misuse of Inquisition resources' after all. 
> 
> Definitely NSFW.

The raven - black, with one white feather - arrived in the garden in the early afternoon, as Avexis left the small Chantry shrine. The pretty girl avian hopped on one leg, cawing for attention until Avexis excused herself from her conversation with Mother Giselle and unwrapped the slip of parchment.  The bird settled itself, grooming her feathers, and declared her intention of waiting for a reply.

“It must be important,” she apologized to the Mother. “It’s the Commander’s raven. I’m sorry, but I should find out what he needs.”

“Not at all, Inquisitor,” the Revered Mother purred, and walked away.

The bird nipped at the base of one wing, smugly. Avexis read the line.

_Inquisitor, I need you. It is rather urgent._

One eyebrow raised, Avexis flipped the slip over. It was blank.  She stared at the raven.  “What is this about?”

The raven fluffed her wings twice, cawing, and showed Avexis a mental picture of Cullen smirking as he wrote the note.

Avexis rolled her eyes, and hid a smile. “Oh really?”

The bird scratched at the dirt, pointedly.

Avexis sighed, and took a stub of pencil out of her belt pouch. “Will you take a reply?”

The bird tilted its head.

Avexis wrote: 

_What requires me to cut my conversation with Mother Giselle short?_

She attached the note to the raven’s leg, and the raven took off, with a flurry of feathers.

Avexis had settled down at her desk, with a pile of necessary documents in front of her when the raven landed again. She, rather ruffled, knocked over a stack of correspondence deliberately, and cawed her impatience.  “Well!” Avexis reached out and detached the new note.

_I’d rather not say. Birds can be intercepted.  And Silky is impatient with me… or jealous of you.  I’m not sure which.  If she tells you, let me know.  The marks she just gave me might scar.  Come to my office?  I’d come to you, but… I locked my door._

Avexis looked at the raven. “Does he think he’s fooling anyone?”  The bird let out a sarcastic squawk, and Avexis rose, picking up the scrolls and letters disturbed by the bird.  “I’ll go, then.”  Silky thrust herself into the air and headed for the aerie instead of Cullen’s tower, cawing her irreverence of her master to her friends.

She made her way across the castle idly, nodding to acquaintances, until she reached Cullen’s office, and tried the door. True to his note, it was locked.  Avexis shifted back, thinking, and then turned, and headed for Cole’s usual haunt.  She could, of course, just turn into a raven, and fly down through his roof, but… probably not in front of all the guards on the tower.  For now, that ability should stay a secret.

“I’m here,” Cole’s voice said softly, just over her shoulder. “Safe and solid, protecting and proud. He feels like quiet, stronger when you hold him.”

“Ah,” Avexis managed, flushing. “His thoughts or mine?”

Cole knelt, and worked on the lock, “Does it matter?” It clicked audibly, and Cole stepped away. “Lock it again.  He… doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

Avexis cleared her throat, “Thank you, Cole.” But he was already gone.

His office was nearly dark, and it took a moment for Avexis’ eyes to adjust. “Cullen?” She called. 

“Up here,” a voice groaned.

Avexis swallowed, and made her way to the ladder, rising and speaking, “Are you sick? Do you need Cassandra, or Anders…”  She peeked over the top of the ladder, to find Cullen in the nude, flushed and holding himself.  “Never mind.  I hope you’re not thinking about either right now.”

He was stroking slowly, his eyes fixed on her. “My first afternoon appointment was cancelled.  We have an hour, if...”

“Oh!” Avexis strolled towards the bed, hips swinging. “This is far more interesting than speaking to Mother Giselle about Inquisition history.  I really don’t mind cutting short my education on miscellaneous Divines in favor of… this.”

“I would,” he caught his breath, “hope so?”

“Has this been an issue for long, Commander?” She knelt at the end of the bed, folding her legs underneath her to watch him.

“All morning. Help?” His eyes were wide and innocent as a Mabari pup’s.

Avexis reached out and touched the crown of his cock. It vibrated as he tightened his fist.  “And if I say yes?" 

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

Avexis smiled, and unfastened her vest, and then her shirt so that they gapped around her breasts. “All right then.”  But instead of undressing, she bent down and licked him up the shaft, slowly, curling her tongue into a point.  “Is this what you had in mind?”

“I…” Cullen panted, “No. But… go ahead.”

“I did promise to suck you dry. I keep my promises, Commander.”

“What about you?”

Avexis caught her breath, surprised at his concern. “I’ll be fine.” She stood and shifted out of her clothes, stripping until she was bare.  “In the tower, I could make a man come in about five minutes this way.  Do you want it fast, or soft?” 

“Soft.” His eyes were gentle, as he watched her pull her braid over, and hand it to him.  “What…”

“Hold on,” she warned, and sank down until her nose touched the soft hair at the base of his cock.

“Maker‘s Breath,” Cullen moaned.

Avexis hummed her disapproval, and then swallowed around him.

“Blessed Andraste.”

She managed a scoffing sort of noise, and rose up, to lick at his slit. “Really?  That’s the best you can do?”  She criticized, and then sunk back down, and rose, and sunk, her tongue wrapping and lapping gently, and her hand creeping to cup him beneath.  Eyes watering, she watched him, blinking away the damp with wicked narrow eyes, as he tried to stop himself from thrusting upwards as she moved over and around him.  She swallowed again, and he bucked up into her with a cry.

“Sweet Fucking Maker! Avexis!”

“Better,” she whispered, before rededicating herself to her work. “Don’t hold back.”

Cullen twisted his fingers into her braid, and pressed down, moaning, his head thrown back. “Avexis, I’m going to… Stop!”

She stopped, the bed creaking under her redistributed weight. He opened his eyes, and looked at her, stroking herself, pupils wider than he had ever seen them.  “Maker…” he panted.  “Please.  Let me…”

Avexis smiled, and then turned her back, to straddle him. He lifted shaky hands, and pulled her backwards.  “Cullen?” She glanced back, confused.

“Up here,” he found his voice, weak and longing. “Let me… taste.”

She shivered under his hands. “Oui.”  She wriggled her way back, and straddled his face.  He licked and she moaned, surprised.  “That’s… different.”

“Good.” He kissed her, sloppily, as if her face was before him instead of her cunt.  “So good,” he murmured.  “More.”

Avexis shifted her hips, and slurping, sucked him back down, as he rose to meet her with a low grunt, hitting the back of her throat, and then beyond. “Ladybird…” he breathed into her, and she backed off to clear her mouth enough to gasp.

Long moments passed, and Avexis struggled to keep herself going as he coaxed noises out of her she didn’t know she could make.

“Don’t have to be quiet,” Cullen reminded her and punctuated his words with his tongue, thrusting gently. She canted her hips down, pressing herself against his chin.  “Come on, Ladybird.  Let me hear you.”

She groaned, “Cullen…” and shattered, sparks lighting up the room like a dozen fireflies, only to sink back down to him and suck hard.

Cullen grunted, “Fuck,” he thrust, “fuck, I’m sorry, I can’t…” he groaned, pulsing down her throat, and went limp underneath her, as she slipped off and pillowed her head on his thigh. They panted for a few seconds, before Cullen whispered, “Ladybird?”

Avexis shook, “yes?”

“Are you… all right?”

“I’m wonderful. You?”  She shifted upwards, braid askew, and settled on his shoulder.  “Did that scare you?  The sparks…”

“They’re beautiful.” Cullen stroked her hair back from her face. “You’re beautiful.”  He laughed, “It hasn’t been an hour.  You’re too good at that.”

She smirked, “That was a lot of cussing, Cullen. I guess I can die happy.”

Cullen reached down and pulled the blanket over them both. “I can’t find it in me to apologize, love.   But I’d really rather you didn’t die, all the same.”

“Don’t intend to.”

 

 

<EotD>

 

 

Avexis sighed, holding the reins of Dorian’s dracolisk as the creature spat at her impatiently. The early morning fog of the courtyard obscured the end of the bridge – it felt like Avexis was sending him not to the Hissing Wastes, but instead into the Void itself. 

The Hissing Wastes, by the Chargers’ account, wasn’t much better.  Still, Dorian had been urging her for months to go take care of the Venatori lurking there like a large group of… lurkers.  She snorted at her extremely weak pun before schooling herself, and wishing her friend well.  “Bon Voyage, Dorian.  You’ll be missed.”  

“Hush, you’d be going herself, if it weren’t for Cassandra’s concern about the missing Seekers.”

“Well, yes, but…” And she needed to find a private moment with the Seeker alone, to discuss the office of Divine, and about a million other major topics that couldn’t wait any longer. “What will I do without you?” 

“Nonsense, you’re more than capable of managing without a redundant necromancer.”

“Personally, connard,” She nudged his knee.

“Well, who wouldn’t miss me?” Dorian laughed, and stroked his moustache with a faux level of self-importance that only those who are truly affected emotionally could ever achieve. “The Venatori will never forgive us if we keep them waiting. Such sticklers for etiquette, those Venatori.  It only makes sense to send me – let them vent on someone who can return their ire.  You’ll see me in a month or two, I’m sure.  I’ll try to leave a few for you.  And all the rifts, naturally…”

“Tell Krem and the Chargers that I appreciate their help, and that I owe them for putting up with you,” Avexis teased, “Tell them… I’m buying the mead when they get back. I’ll send a letter directly to Krem, telling him when to expect me.”

“Not to me? What have I done to deserve this disdain!” But Dorian smiled.  “But there’s no more time to dawdle!” Dorian took the reins of his dracolisk.  “You had better get packing, young lady.  Cassandra wanted to leave yesterday for Caer Oswin.  She dislikes being kept waiting even more than the Venatori.  Your little jaunt to recruit bear mercenaries and visit Hot Templar’s hometown irritated her to no end.”  At Avexis’ worried look, Dorian sighed, “A great deal of that irritation had to do with her not wanting you to come to harm, and keeping your newest trick from her.  Sera feels similarly, you know.  You should have a word with both, when you have a chance.”  He sniffed, “You’ll notice how I am not hurt that you kept something so magically interesting from me, your dearest, closest friend…”

Avexis nodded, “I know. You’re a prince among men, Dorian, patient, understanding, and discreet.”  Even Dorian laughed at the last, as she paused, “Be careful?”

“I’m always careful,” the mage managed, and then straightened, his eyes on someone behind her. “Well, almost always **.** Pray excuse me, bella donna, I wasn’t expecting…”

Avexis turned, and as her eyes widened, a smile drifted over her face. “You should have been…”

“Hush, you,” Dorian hissed. “And make yourself scarce.”

“Came to see you off,” Bull grunted. “Hope that’s okay.”

“I’ll… just… leave you two to your farewells,” she stammered, and backed away, still smiling, as Dorian, stunned into a public display of affection, bent and kissed the larger man.

“Gonna miss you,” Bull grunted.

“Naturally,” Dorian purred into Bull’s neck, finding his normal equilibrium. “And don’t you dare forget it.”

 


	50. Ruins, Rubble, and Mercy

“Are all Fereldan Keeps mere piles of rubble?” Avexis asked Sera, who snorted, barely looking at the ruined towers far above them. The scent of spruce sap filled the air as they climbed through the path weaving through the sparse, spindly trees.

“Nah. Denerim Palace and Fort Drakon are nice enough. Caer Bronach’s good, right? Just this place that’s shite - at least on the outside.  Word is, Bann Loren was more interested in tithing to the Chantry than keeping up appearances,” the four wound up the final hill towards the inevitable village at the base of the Keep, hedged in by low shrubs and pine trees, striping their road with the slowly sinking sun.  “It’s awful quiet, though.  It’s the middle of the day -where’s the people?”

“They ran,” Cole replied from under his hat. Sera didn’t reply, but moved away.  “They didn’t like what they heard.”

“Maybe we’ve got the wrong pile of rubble?” Blackwall rumbled an easy laugh.

Cassandra frowned, her horse ambling forward at a steady pace, even while her body language spoke of reluctance, and the need for defense. She reached down and pulled her shield free of her saddle.  “I would have thought someone would come and meet us.  They must see me.  If the Seekers are meeting here, someone would come.”

Blackwall did the same. “There should be traffic, coming and going, whatever the state of the Keep,” he muttered. “Ambush?” 

“Perhaps,” Cassandra admitted, “Stay on guard.”

The small village at the base of the hill was empty. Sera peered in windows, unlocked a few doors, and shook her head as she came back to meet the rest of the party.  “They’re all gone.  Like they run out.  Dust on the floors, no footprints… This ain’t good, Quizzy.  Not good at all.”

“That’s what I said,” Cole whispered. “They were scared.  Bad things at the castle.  It’s not like Bann Loren.  Something’s not right.  Bad men in the night, kicking in doors, telling us to leave.  Shiny armor, their eyes too bright for darkness.”  He stopped, “They left.” He finished, abruptly.

It took several long minutes, filled with Sera’s nervous chatter covering what preparations they could make discreetly, for them to arrive at the castle walls. “Let Cassandra take point,” Avexis hissed to the others.  “If this is a misunderstanding, they’ll recognize her.  Blackwall, Sera – I want you to stay here.  Cole can stay hidden, so if Cassandra and I need-”

Sera snorted, “A whole village doesn’t just disappear by accident.” She pointedly drew three arrows and nocked them. “Seeker goes first, sure, but don’t stand in front of me.  Someone drove those people out of their homes, and they’re gonna pay.” 

Avexis hesitated, but nodded in approbation before stepping aside and casting a barrier on them all – still weak, but better than nothing. Cole disappeared into hazy smoke, Cassandra kicked the door in, shouting her arrival, but the noise just fell away into the darkness. 

The expected ambush didn’t come until they reached the side door of the Keep, and cautiously let themselves in. Their attackers weren’t much of a challenge, and they stripped the bodies for clues.  “Promisers,” Cassandra spat.  “I should have known.”

“Promisers?” Avexis left the looting to Sera, choosing instead to join Cassandra.  Cole was still invisible.  She suspected he preferred it that way, in unfamiliar environments.  “Who are the Promisers?”

“Promisers?” Sera took her hands out of a dead foe’s pocket, just long enough to ask. “Who are the Promisers?”

“The Order of Fiery Promise is a cult, determined to bring about the end of the world. They have strange beliefs about the Seekers, particularly.  They’ve hounded us for centuries,” Cassandra’s forehead tensed, her eyes dark with worry.  “If they’re here, then… that explains why the Seekers might be here, but not the connection to Corypheus,” she marched towards the outside door of the lower Keep impatiently.  “We must find out what happened to the others. The Seekers are my family.  If they’re…” she was already through the door that lead to the next chamber, the end of her sentence lost to her own impatience.

Avexis stifled her jealousy, knowing it was inappropriate. “Of course.”  She turned to Sera, who was still rifling through pockets, re-collecting her arrows, and crowing at found treasures.  “Sera, we need to try to stay togeth-”

Cassandra’s cry of dismay echoed around the corner and Avexis lunged for the door. Sera reached her first, at the end of a wide hall, standing over the dead body of a man in Seeker armor.  “The Promisers will pay for this,” Cassandra’s voice crackled with anger. 

Avexis knelt and arranged the limbs of the man, noting the threaded red veins twisting on his skin, while the Seeker marched towards the entrance to the main courtyard. Sera followed her.  “Oi!” The elf yelled a moment later, and Avexis darted towards the door at top speed, only to witness Cassandra stabbing first one man, and then another attempting to flank her.  Sera let two arrows fly in quick succession, and an adversary fell, even before Avexis could cast. 

Cassandra knelt, and rifled through the pockets of the man in front of her. “Red lyrium,” she muttered.  “It always comes back to red lyrium…” She handed the letter to Avexis, who scanned it quickly.

“They poisoned them?” Avexis asked, confused. “Why?”

“For power,” Cassandra snarled. “Seekers do not use lyrium, like the Templars.  We would have been harder to corrupt. As they had no leash to use on us, they…” she nudged the body at her feet firmly – one step away from kicking it.  Sera did it for her, cursing when the metal hurt her toes.  “The Promisers want the world to end.  What use were they to Corypheus?”  She started to walk away.

Cole reappeared, “He didn’t care about the Promisers. He wanted the Templars.  He thought the Seekers were better Templars.”  The man grabbed the sides of his hat.  “I don’t like him.”

“Cassandra… wait,” Avexis stumbled to catch up with her, laying a hand on her elbow. “What you find might not be… pleasant.”

“When I have I ever shied away from unpleasant things?” Cassandra shook off her hand. “The truth is rarely pleasant, in my experience, Avexis.” She was already climbing the set of stairs, leading, no doubt, to the Main Hall.  Avexis paused for just a moment to exchange a worried look with Cole, and witness Sera’s snort.

Cassandra’s despair echoed through the hall. “Daniel!  Daniel, can you hear me?” Avexis ran, then, her coat flying out behind her as she rushed to rejoin the Seeker.  “Daniel…”

A young man lay crumpled at the base of a set of stairs, eyes glowing and veins traced with red. “Daniel,” Cassandra’s voice was tender, as she knelt next to him, her sword forgotten on the ground.  Avexis tried to remember if she had ever heard the Seeker sound that way, or treat her weapon so cavalierly.

“Cassandra? It is you. You’re alive!” The young man managed, hollow eyes shining. 

“As are you. I am so glad I found you.”  Cassandra glanced back at her, eyes troubled and strangely, guilty. “Avexis, this is Daniel.  He is… he was my apprentice…” her voice wobbled.

Sera muttered, “Didn’t you know you had an apprentice.”

“I left my Order,” The Seeker snapped. “He hasn’t been my apprentice – for some time.”

Cole muttered, rocking on his heels, “Hated to leave. Wouldn’t go.  War’s not right, but I can change things here.  Don’t go.  Don’t stay.  Don’t…”

“Cole…” Avexis touched the man gently.

“Still-” Sera started, only to have Cassandra shush her with a volatile glare. “Fine, I’ll just stay over here then, with my mouth shut.  Don’t mind me…”

“Cassandra,” Daniel rasped, and he groaned. “Avexis?  Cassandra - is this the Inquisitor?”  His eyes were round with awe, despite his pain.  “It’s true then?  Tranquility can be cured?”

Cassandra flushed, “Yes. It’s true.  She was restored in the Fade, by – a spirit of Faith.”

“Maker have Mercy and Andraste be with her,” Daniel moaned, and then coughed. “It’s a sign.  Maker, I was so wrong… I didn’t believe the rumors.”

“Hush,” Cassandra ordered. “You’re sick.”  Sera made a scoffing sort of noise.  “Hush, elf,” Avexis lifted his head into her lap.  “We’ll get a healer…"

“It’s red lyrium,” Avexis warned her, under her breath. The vibration of the foreign material in his body itched across her skin, prickled it like a heat rash. Despite the irritation, she propped him up better, and took his hand, checking his pulse, and shaking her head.  The Seeker’s stubborn glare hurt more than the nasty substance ever could.  “Cassandra, I’m sorry, but there’s nothing…”

“Idiot,” Cassandra’s voice shook as she cut her off, her eyes closed. “You should have come with me.”

“You know me… wanted that promotion,” Daniel panted, somehow managing to laugh, and looked at Avexis with curiosity. “Haven’t heard as much about you as I’d like, Inquisitor.  Cassandra… talked about you, occasionally.  Before everything.  Wish I had gone with her now.  Wouldn’t be in this mess.  I’m sorry, I…” he coughed, and little red shards spat out of his mouth.

“Shite,” Sera backed up, “That red crap’s in his lungs.”

“Hush,” Cassandra ordered, murder in every twitch of her fingers. “Tell me who did this.  Was it Bann Loren?”

Cole’s body shook, “It was him. Didn’t you know?”  The spirit backed away.

“I was trying to get out, trying to escape, to tell someone,” Daniel shut his eyes. “Cassandra, they fed us… things.  It feels like a demon, growing inside me.”

“You can’t be possessed,” Cassandra argued instantly.

“I’m not being literal!” He laughed again, and moaned. “Honestly, listen?  Just once?  The others… disappeared, one after the other.  They’re gone, just like me.  It was the Lord Seeker.  Lucius betrayed us, Cassandra.  He sent us here, ‘An important mission’, he said, so that none of the rest would suspect.  Lies!  It’s the Promisers, Casssandra.  He’s working with them.  He’s been here with them, all along.  He gave us to them, betrayed us, one at a time.”

“That’s… he…” Cassandra’s nostrils flared, and Avexis saw her realize that she couldn’t deny that the Lord Seeker would do such a thing – not since Val Royeaux and the Envy demon that had been found at Therinfal Redoubt, and defeated by the Chargers. Cassandra closed her eyes.

Cole murmured, “It’s him. He’s here.”

Avexis started, “Cassandra-“

“Now is not the time for sympathy!” Cassandra snapped. “I will avenge you,” she vowed to Daniel.  “I’ll avenge all of us.”

“Good,” Daniel’s eyes flashed, red in the dim light, but his smile was gentle.

Casssandra stood. “I’ll go now.  Wait here, with the Inquisitor.  I’ll be back, and we’ll find a way to take you back to Skyhold.  Perhaps Dagna can…”

“No time,” he stressed, grabbing out to hold her. “Give me mercy, Cassandra.  Please.  Don’t leave me like this.”

Cassandra’s face broke, “I can’t, Daniel.” 

“Please. Please,” he begged.

“Don’t just leave him to die, that’s shite,” Sera was far in the back corner by this time, avoiding the small crystals on the floor. “Quizzy, you see it, don’t you?  He’s gone, right?”

Avexis cleared her throat, “He’s right, Seeker.” Daniel’s eyes flashed to hers and they met, in perfect understanding at the use of the formal title.  “If you can’t do it, I will,” she offered, quietly.

“I can’t,” Cassandra said bluntly.

Cole stepped forward, eyes dark. “I can.  Did it – before.”

Avexis held her breath, “Cole – you killed Pharamond?”

“No. Before they could perform the Rite again,” Cole bobbed his head. “He begged me.  Begged for Mercy.  The Templars wouldn’t do it.  I didn't want to. Lambert…” Cole shook his head.  “He didn’t want to let him go.  Tranquil were useful.  The most useful mage.”  Cole drew in on himself, balling up in a broken hunch.  “I can give him mercy...”

Daniel watched the spirit-man with wide eyes, and then clutched Avexis. “Let him.”

“He sees me,” whispered Cole peeking out from under his hat. “He needs me.”

“I wish I had met all of you before - everything,” Daniel coughed with an ill-timed laugh. “Do it.  Please?” Avexis moved to draw her dagger, but Cassandra held her arm back.

“I should never have left you. I should have made you come with me.” Cassandra picked her sword up from its careless position on the floor.  “Mercy, then.”  She wanted to close her eyes, turn away, rather than see the pain and anger in the Seeker’s eyes.

Avexis reached up to stop her. “Cassandra – don’t do this.  Let Cole.  You shouldn’t have Daniel’s blood on your hands.  For Cole, it’s compassion, not despair.”

Cassandra sheathed her sword. “Very well.”  Cole drew his daggers.  “Do it,” Cassandra ordered.

With a spatter of blood on metal, leather and stone, it was over. Avexis closed Daniel’s eyes and settled him more comfortably, as Cassandra turned away, hiding her face from all of them.  Sera muttered, “Poor blighter,” and Cole disappeared.

“Burn his body,” Cassandra ordered no one in particular. “I’m going after the Lord Seeker.”

“Cassandra,” Avexis began, worried, stumbling to her feet. The red lyrium crumbled under her feet, squeaky and brittle as it ground into dust.

Cassandra straightened and marched up the stairs, ignoring Avexis’ outstretched hand. “I’m going to kill Lucius for this,” she hissed.  “Daniel was the best of us all.  He didn’t deserve to be used!”  Avexis shifted to follow.  “Don’t try and stop me!  Daniel is dead and I will…”

“Let me help!” Avexis ordered, voice too high and tight. “Damn it, Cassandra, you’re not alone in this!”

“Every time I love someone, they die! First my parents, then Anthony, then Regalyan, and now Daniel…” she caught a sob back before it could escape.  “And now it will be you.  I know it.  I KNOW this, and I can’t stop it!  I’m not enough to protect anyone I…”

Avexis caught up with her and spun her back around to face her. Cassandra threw her arm away, blocking with a fist, chest heaving.  For a moment, Avexis recoiled, thinking the Seeker would punch her, but instead she stepped forward, closing the gap between their bodies.  “You don’t have to protect me anymore.  I’m not… weak or fragile.  I’m strong and really fucking dangerous.  And I’m not fucking going anywhere. I’m going to live.  I’ve lived through every single piece of shit Corypheus has thrown at me, and I’m going to keep doing it.  I’m going to live for Cullen, and for you, and Sera…"

“Eh, ain’t that sweet,” the elf grinned weakly. “She likes me.”

“Shut it, Sera.” Avexis ordered, without looking at her.

“Yeah, yeah. Just trying to lighten the moment, right?”

“I am here. I am going with you to end the Lord Seeker. You will let me help.” Avexis looked at Cassandra, and realized what she just said. “I mean, please, let me help?”

Cassandra’s shoulders heaved. She turned on her heel and marched towards the exit, determined.  “First, we kill the Lord Seeker.  Give him justice for everything he’s done to Daniel, to the Templars, to all of Thedas.  After that… we’ll see.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Avexis took a shuddery breath. “And then we’ll send Daniel to the Maker together...”

Cole reappeared abruptly, crouching by the wall. “Like a family.” 

“We were not…” Cassandra stopped, voice breaking.

“It’s what you were thinking,” Cole’s face was in darkness. “It’s what Daniel thought.  He was happy, when you came.  You came for him.” 

Avexis couldn’t bring herself to respond. It hurt too much.

But they climbed the last few stairs together, steps slow but sure, to emerge out into a large ruined courtyard, with a statue of Andraste in the far corner. The knights attacked, but Cassandra cut them down, one by one, before any of them could reach Avexis.  Avexis was left to cast barriers on her friend – the only assistance she dared lend in the face of such righteous anger.  Cole had disappeared again, and Sera was too far back to have a decent line of sight.

They crossed another set of stone steps laid into the ground, covered with moss and overgrown with weeds, and at the top, a man in Templar armor. “Lord Seeker Lucius,” Cassandra snarled at the man as they approached.

“Cassandra,” the Lord Seeker smirked, “And the new Inquisitor. My – haven’t you changed?”  His eyes dropped down Avexis’ body.  “So, the rumors are true.  The little mage girl who talks to dragons… made Tranquil for her own safety, and now she runs the Inquisition?” He shook his head.  “What a fool you are, Cassandra, trusting this… creature.  Such misplaced sentiment.”

“Should she trust you instead? You’re the man who betrayed his own Order,” Avexis refused to rise to his bait, even while her skin crawled.  “I chose Tranquility.  The reversal was not by my choice.”

The Lord Seeker raised a haughty eyebrow, “I don’t see you rushing to undergo the Rite again… Inquisitor.”

Avexis pressed her lips together, rather than give him satisfaction.

Cassandra slowly circled the Lord Seeker, attempting to flank him, Avexis assumed. Lucius seemed amused by the attempt, adjusting his gauntlets while continuing to speak.  “The Seekers of Truth were the original Inquisition, you know.  Not so different from what you’re doing, really.  Restoring order in a time of madness.  Making the world better,” he somehow managed not to sneer, and Avexis couldn’t control her shudder.  “And what did we create?  The Chantry.  The Circles of Magi.  A war that will see no end.”

“We are not the same. The Inquisition is not aiding Corypheus.” Avexis readied a lightning spell, mentally measuring the distance between the Lord Seeker and his peons.  She wasn’t sure she could avoid Cassandra – but this would not end well.  Daniel deserved his justice – and his vengeance.

Avexis wouldn’t want to be where the Lord Seeker was now, turning slowly to face the woman who had murder in her eyes. And yet he seemed so… relaxed.

“Corypheus is a monster with limited ambition.”

“And yours is so much greater,” Cassandra grasped the hilt of her sword deliberately, but her shield stayed on her back. When Avexis cast another barrier, one of Lucius’ men narrowed his eyes and drew his weapon.

“We Seekers are abominations, Cassandra.” Lucius’ eyes and words were tainted with zealotry. “We created a decaying world, and fought to preserve it, even as it crumbled. We had to be stopped!”

Cassandra scoffed, and Lucius waved forward one of his men, who handed over a book. “If you don’t believe me, see for yourself.” Cassandra took the book cautiously, one handed, still in a defensive posture. “This contains the secrets of our Order, passed to me after Lord Seeker Lambert was slain.”

“Slain?” Avexis asked Cassandra.

Behind her, a small voice whispered, “Yes. I killed him, too.”  Avexis’ eyes widened.  “He hurt people.  He wasn’t trying to keep anyone safe.  He only cared about his secrets.  He was wrong.  Bad.  I killed him for the people.”

“Cole…” Avexis murmured. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know you wanted to know.” Cole reappeared, hands hidden by baggy sleeves.  “No one asked.”

Lucius’ men took two steps back, “Demon,” one hissed.

“Cole is no demon,” Cassandra contradicted, pressing forward. The men pivoted, unsure whether to guard against Cassandra or Cole.  “He’s a spirit of Compassion.  Something I suspect you’d never recognize in a hundred ages.  His purpose drove him to Lambert’s death.”  She narrowed her eyes, “Much like mine drives me to demand yours.”

“No demon?” Lucius laughed, _laughed_ at Cassandra.  He was an idiot.  “It matters not.  The mage war had already begun, but it was not too late for me to do the right thing.”

“How is this the right thing?” Avexis boiled over at last. “You’re insane.”

“Shush.”

“Cassandra… he’s…”

“Shush,” ordered the Seeker, once again. “Lord Seeker, what you’ve done…” her voice broke again, just as it had downstairs with Daniel.  “We may work with Compassion, but you’ve surrendered to Envy.”

“Of course you know.” Lucius turned away, the small superior smirk still playing across his face. “What Corypheus has done with the Templars doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter?” Avexis sputtered, but Cassandra held her back when she tried to step forward. “They’re dead… all of them, dead or gone to red lyrium!  Cassandra!” Avexis tried to shake her off and failed.

“You admit your guilt?” Cassandra’s voice wavered. “Will you come with us, then? To stand trial?”  Cole disappeared into a haze, and Avexis braced herself.

Cole knew before anyone when death was inevitable. Lucius would not surrender.  Not now.

“A trial? Why?  I have seen the future,” Lucius spoke almost dreamily. “I have created a new Order to replace the old.  The world will end so we can start anew – a pure beginning.”  His eyes burned with unholy conviction.  “Join us, Cassandra.  It is the Maker’s will.”

Cassandra drew her sword instead, and thrust the sword under his throat. He blocked it with a gauntlet, and Avexis recast the barrier over her friend, as Sera flipped away to higher ground.  But even as Cassandra moved to parry, Lucius was already dead on the ground, in a slowly growing puddle of his own blood.  Cole stood above him, face tense and sorrowful.  His lackeys laid on the ground, one with an arrow through his eye, the other with a slit throat.

Cole had moved too quickly for anyone but Sera to keep up. 

“He was insane,” Avexis repeated.

“He had to be,” Cassandra’s eyes tracked their remains frantically. “Perhaps the Envy demon’s influence?  Did the demon plan to remove the Lord Seeker so it could take over the Templars?”

“So much wasted life,” Avexis murmured. Cole nodded his agreement, even as he bent to begin piling the bodies.  “Cassandra…”

“He can’t have killed all of us! I won’t allow it…” For a brief moment, determination and desperation shone from Cassandra’s eyes. Then, she closed them and collected herself.  “I am going to bring Daniel myself,” Cassandra ordered, eyes dry and dark with pain.  “Do not follow me.” And she descended back into the bowels of the doomed castle for her apprentice, her feet sure, but her gloves pressed to her eyes.

Even Cole was silent in the face of the Seeker’s pain.

Sera slipped away to fetch Blackwall, and together they gathered the rest of the dead. They worked together in silence, collecting wood and searching for oil to fuel the flames.

Cassandra didn’t emerge, Daniel’s body in her arms, until the sun was setting over the ragged edges of the trees. 

They built the pyre in front of the statue of Andraste in the ruined courtyard, and laid Daniel to rest on top of the bodies of the Lord Seeker and his men. Cassandra watched, dry eyed, even when the smoke blew in Avexis’ face, and made her eyes sting.  In Orlesian, Avexis spoke Trials, in a far softer tone than her usual commanding prayers, as the verses for the dead rose with the smoke from Daniel’s last service. 

Through the makeshift service, Cassandra was silent, as stoic as any statue, the Book of the Seekers at her feet, ignored for the time being, in favor of more important matters.

When Trials ended, Cassandra drew her sword, and thrust it into the ground before her, and knelt, wrapped up in her own vows and grief. But she didn’t repeat Trials.  Instead she called out to the heavens, in a voice bitter and hard.

 

“’The Archon looked upon what he had wrought

As the flames of Andraste’s pyre grew ever closer to heaven

And the heat drove even the bravest of his legion back

And his heart wavered,'” Cassandra’s voice shook and then steadied.

“’For though Andraste did not cry out

Yet did he see her suffering.

Merciless, the fire did not spare her mortal flesh.

And while Hessarian heard over the roar of the bonfire

The cheering of his magisters, he also heard the distant Song of the faithful mourning their Lady.’”

 

She broke down, despite her desperate seeking of absolution from the mercy she had granted her apprentice. Cautiously, Avexis drew closer, and laying a hand on her shoulder, continued the verse. 

 

“’Before any among his advisors could draw breath,

Hessarian took blade to hand and himself

Dared the fire that consumed the Prophet.

With one swift strike he pierced her heart.’”

 

The words were a question, but Cassandra didn’t answer; stiff and still as death under Avexis’ hand. 

 Off to one side, as if he wasn’t sure of his welcome, Cole fidgeted, whispering. “You see me.  Faith tries to make a friend of Compassion.”

 Behind them both, Sera cleared her throat, and sweeter by far than Avexis would ever have expected sang.

 

“The sky grew dark. And the ground began to tremble as if in mortal dread.

The crowd before the gates, both Tevinter and faithful fell silent.

The heavens wept, and yet no rain could extinguish the flame.

Which was now a funeral pyre.’”

 

Under Avexis’ hand Cassandra’s shoulder heaved, her grief finally breaking with Sera’s words. “Maker! Grant him mercy,” her friend called out into the dark night just beyond the flames. “Daniel was the best of us, Your servant, Your faithful.”  With one smooth movement the warrior princess rose, her face once more collected and firm.  Avexis let her hand fall, feeling her failure.  “We should go back to Skyhold,” Cassandra announced clearly, and turned away from the pyre.  Ashes fell from the sky, and drifted against her cheek as soft as any kiss, but Cassandra brushed them away, leaving streaks of soot on her skin.  “There is much to do, and Daniel… Daniel would not want us to tarry on his behalf.  The Maker has him, now.”  She left the courtyard, her sword still stabbed into the earth before the pyre.

Sera and Blackwall filed out behind her, one at a time, until only Avexis remained. She slipped Galyan’s pendant off over her head, and tossed it into the flames.  It flared, and disappeared into sparks of burning lyrium.  “Farewell, my brother,” she whispered, then turned, back as straight as the staff that rested against her spine.  “I will see justice for you, I swear it.  Whatever that looks like.”

She only wished she knew.

To her right, she grew aware of Cole. “He knows.  He understands.”  A thin white hand touched her elbow.  “They’re together, now.”  The man’s wide brim hid his face, and Avexis leaned towards him, so that his shadow could hide her own cool tears.

“I hope so, Cole.”


	51. Books, Rites, and Ravens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mildly NSFW towards the end. For the suggestion of shenanigans.

In camp two days later, Cassandra sat on a log stump, with the Book of Seekers open in her lap, with white lips that even the rosy glow from the fire could not flush.

Avexis was afraid to ask. For two days, the Seeker hadn’t eaten, only rode silently, and then opened that book in the evenings when they stopped to make camp.   Cole had watched her, silent and still, but hadn’t interrupted, and Avexis had taken her cue from the spirit-man. 

But that needed to change. She inched forward, with a bowl of Blackwall’s stew.  “Cassandra.”  She stopped there, unsure what to say, with the firelight from the campfire crackling into sparks and sending ashes upwards, like the sins of dead men.  Such a different fire from Daniel’s, she thought dizzily, missing the effects of Galyan’s amulet.

She didn’t need it, she told herself. It was just… an object. The enchantment hadn’t been renewed since his death – the focus she felt it provided was only in her mind.  Galyan was with her in other ways, and would always be so – and this way, it felt like perhaps Galyan would watch over Daniel in the Fade.  Still, she clutched at Cullen’s coin before approaching Cassandra warily, as if expecting the other woman would strike out, demanding to be left alone.

Daniel’s pyre might have been two days cold, but as her friend read through the book the Lord Seeker had pressed upon her, Cassandra’s anger burned hotter than she had ever seen it. Avexis had never feared Cassandra before – not even when she was ten and terrified the Templars were going to kill her for being a blood mage.  She repeated, even softer.  “Seeker?”

Cassandra glanced up, and her eyes fixed on the scar on Avexis’ forehead, her eyes wide with shock, looking about twenty years younger, with wide grey eyes, her skin paler than it had ever been, even when she was nothing more than the young woman that had saved her from Frenic, and saved the Divine from assassination by dragon.

She looked more like her younger self than the self-confident warrior Avexis knew and loved. Avexis sat down next to her, trying to be brave.  “What’s wrong?  Story not holding your interest?”  The levity felt misplaced, but she didn’t know what else to try.  She set down the bowl of stew she was holding, knowing it would likely go uneaten anyway.  Cassandra didn’t look hungry.

“On the contrary,” the Seeker’s voice broke as she tried for a smile and failed. “It’s riveting.”

Avexis took a risk and touched her hand. Cassandra flinched away, and she let the hand fall back into her lap.  “Want to talk about it?”

“Yes. No.  But I think I must.” The Seeker’s hands were shaking on the pages.  Cassandra traced the words in the book.  “They make Seekers - they made me - Tranquil, without my knowledge, and… to reverse it, they… they summon a spirit of Faith.”  Her voice was low, and thick with a Nevarran accent that had never been so pronounced.  “The Lord Seekers have always known there was a Cure.  And kept it secret.”

“Merde,” Avexis breathed, clenching her hands into fists.

“And no one ever accused me of being… unstable,” Cassandra laughed, “Though perhaps they should have. You… you are no more dangerous than I am.  Perhaps less so, given my temper.  My Seeker powers… they’re - they’re…”

“They’re like a spirit healer’s,” Avexis raised her eyes to the Seeker’s, worried lines fading away into understanding. “Cassandra, you’re no abomination.  I hope you’re not thinking such things…”

“Lord Seeker Lucius called us all abominations.” She reached out and touched Avexis’ scar gently.  Avexis closed her eyes against the light pressure.  “It makes so much sense now.  Lambert knew what Pharamond could be, and… and demanded that the Most Holy have him made Tranquil again, rather than allow the truth… rather than allow the power that the Chantry held against all mages, the threat of Tranquility, to be weakened…” her voice broke.  "And the Most Holy allowed it.  To keep order.  Because that order was more important than the truth."

“And Cole killed Lambert,” Avexis whispered, “For that sin. For Pharamond.”

“And Cole killed Pharamond, as well, before the Rite could be completed. Knowing what I know now… I can hardly blame him.  The Vigil is arduous, and to go through that twice…” Cassandra’s voice firmed, harsh and rough.  “I will dismantle the Seekers myself.”

"I didn't kill Pharamond," a small voice from beyond the fire spoke up.  "It was the Red One.  Adrian.  She was angry - so angry.  She needed him dead, so the mages would fight."  Cassandra and Avexis blinked at the spirit-man.  "He wanted to die, but I didn't do it."  He huddled up, knees to his chest, and rocked a little.  "So angry.  I didn't do it."

"Cole... you were falsely accused?" Cassandra began, before shaking her head.  "If I am ever in a position to have your name cleared, then I will do it.  I swear on Andraste's life."  Her face darkened, "But that is besides the point.  Lucius, Lambert - they've ruined the Seekers.  They cannot be redeemed."

“Cassandra… Lucius was the abomination, not you. He gave up his life to Envy.  He couldn’t be possessed, but he stepped aside for a demon. He chose to become an abomination. He allowed the atrocities to happen – but not all Seekers are like that!  You’re not like that.”

“Enough of us have been this way. And… lies like this shouldn’t be perpetuated.”  Cassandra looked back at the book.  “We cannot call ourselves Seekers of Truth when we base our lives on falsehoods.”

“Then don’t tell the lies. Tell the truth.  Tell every Seeker what you - they are.  Tell the Tranquil, too.  Let them all decide what to do.  Do it together.  Make the Order better, Cassandra.  One or…” Avexis tempered her reply, “a few bad Lord Seekers doesn’t mean that the Order is worthless.  There will always be mages like Frenic, and Templars like… like…” her voice shook, “like Pierre.  You saved me, Cassandra.  You are a true Seeker of Truth.  Time and again you save me.  You still are saving me.  How many times have you kept me from being killed, used, or… worse?   So now you know that the Cure is viable.  You know it personally.  That changes everything.  You must see that!”

Cassandra reached out and cupped her head, staring her in the eyes. “Some days I believe that saving your life is the only good thing I’ve done in my life.”  She let go, her eyes drifting down to the book still in her lap.  “I… I will finish the book, and figure out what to do.  Thank you for… believing in me.”  She frowned, “But Avexis, I had nothing to do with Pierre.  I thought you knew… Galyan and I… separated, before that ever occurred. By the time I found out… I would have killed Pierre, if I had known what he had done. When I did learn of it… Justinia forbade me from leaving Val Royeaux.  Whoever had him banished was far more merciful than I would ever have been.”

“Then who…” Avexis’ words came slow, “Did Galyan have the contacts to send him away like that?”

Cassandra snorted, “Galyan? Maker, no. He was terrible at the Game.  Far too honest, bless his soul. It’s why he wasn’t chosen as First Enchanter at Montsimmard.”  She smiled fondly, but Avexis paled.  Cassandra’s forehead wrinkled, “What?  What did I say?”

“The Game…” Avexis stared at the floor. “Cassandra… merde.”

“Vivienne?” Cassandra’s disgusted noise echoed through the camp. “No.  She wouldn’t…”

“She once told me Templars were individuals. You have to judge them on their own merits, not on their job.  She told me so, when I was asking for opinions about the Breach, back in Haven.” Avexis flicked her eyes back up to Cassandra’s tired ones.  “You can make it back to Skyhold on your own, can’t you?  With Sera and Blackwall?”

“Avexis, don’t be foolish,” Cassandra warned.

“I’m going to fly straight home,” Avexis promised. “Nothing foolish about that.” 

“Avexis…” but Avexis had already morphed into a raven’s body. Cassandra stared blankly as she hovered for a moment, before landing on Cassandra’s arm, pecking at her cheek, and jumping up and away. “You’re so…” Cassandra shook her head.  “You are so like me,” she scolded.  “Too impulsive. Galyan always said that, and I never believed him.”  And then she smiled, ever so briefly, before turning back to her book.  “There are worse things, perhaps.” Far above the raven circled in a slow glide over her once, before flapping into the falling night.  “Safe travels,” Cassandra murmured to the page in front of her.  “I hope your answer is more to your liking than mine.”

 

_< EotD>_

 

It took days of hard flying. Avexis’ muscles ached by the time she landed on Madame de Fer’s balcony, and morphed back into a woman with flashing eyes and sparking hair.  “It was you,” she advanced slowly on the Knight-Enchanter.

“You’ll have to be more…” Vivienne backed away, allowing a flicker of confusion to cross her face. “I don’t actually know what you mean, dear.”

“Pierre. You had him sent away.  After…”

Vivienne‘s body relaxed, ever so slightly. “Of course.  Galyan never told you?  He came to me with the story - and you backed him.  I couldn’t have a Templar like Pierre in my Circle.  He was a danger to everyone.  I told you, my dear - Templars are like men, or elves, or anyone else.  Some are charming.  Some are assholes,” Vivienne retained a level of grace while cussing that no one else could hope to match.  “Pierre Abelard was the latter.  I wanted to do worse, but his family… even my dear Bastien’s connections couldn’t put him aside entirely.”

Avexis blinked, “You called on a member of the Council of Heralds for a favor for a Tranquil? For me?”

“Not for you, Darling. For all of us!  He was a danger to my mages.”  Vivienne shook her head, and strolled elegantly to the chair next to the window.  “I had suspected it for years, but his other victims were too frightened to speak.  Without that, I was unable to act.  You as a Tranquil - Tranquil are impartial, my dear.  They don’t lie.  The perfect witness – infallible and without bias.  You were the final nail in his… lamentably figurative coffin.”  She allowed herself a small smile.  “You never realized?”

“I thought Pierre was faithful. That he… loved me.  I didn’t know until…”

Vivienne patted her arm, and got a static shock for her trouble. She closed her hand into a loose fist, and settled it into her lap, spreading the fingers back out, as if to showcase her elegant hands. “Darling, no man is faithful.”

“Even Bastien?”

Vivienne sniffed, “Bastien was married. He has children.”

“Before you…”

“Yes, well…” Vivienne turned away, a little flustered. “I have no reason to expect that he…”

“You wish he were.” Avexis shook her head.  “I don’t know you at all, Madame.”

“No, you really don’t,” her voice was nearly too light. “No one does.  It’s better for everyone that way.  Now… I suggest you go get cleaned up.  Days as a raven isn’t advisable, dearest.  And you’d best hope I never find out where you learned how to do - that.  Disgusting, lowering yourself to cheap little tricks.  I hope that wasn’t Solas’ idea.  Such a bad influence.  Once you’re… free, come see me again.  One good turn deserves another, don’t you think?  I have something you might be able to help me with.”

With such a dismissal, Avexis stepped away, to slip into her room, disturbing the guards shocked at the lack of notice of her arrival, but swearing them to secrecy, while having a bath sent up. “Tell no one but Josie, please.”

“Yes, Inquisitor.”

 

_< EotD>_

 

Cullen climbed her steps a half an hour later, confused. “Avexis?” He called out.  “This is idiotic,” he muttered.  “Bruce is seeing things again…”

“I’m here,” her voice called out. “Watch your step…” the warning came too late, as he stumbled over her clothes.  “Sorry, I stripped in a hurry to get into the bath,” she laughed.  “Days as a raven will… take their toll.”

“You flew…”

“Back from just outside South Reach,” Avexis confirmed, with a smirk. “Handy thing, flying.  Food is coming.  I’m starving.  Couldn’t bring myself to scavenge as a raven would, and didn’t want to stop.”  She waved him over.   “Bonjour.”  Smiling, he bent down and kissed her hello.  “I learned something I needed to talk to Vivienne about, and… couldn’t wait." 

He sat down next to the tub. “You shouldn’t do that.  You could have been shot down by an arrow, and we would have lost you forever.”

“I won’t do it often,” she protested. “And except for the terminally observant Bruce, no one but you, Josie, my personal guards, and the maids know I’m back at all.  I’m going to finish this bath and then hop back out my window and go meet Cassandra and come back properly.  Clean, and as an elven woman, and with all of the usual fanfare.”  She grinned, “I’m enjoying the mystery of it all.”  She winked.  “Care to help me out of here?”

Cullen sighed, and handed her the towel on her bed. “Bruce’s stories are getting even more wild, Inquisitor.  He actually claims you landed - as a bird - on Vivienne’s balcony and got into a confrontation with the Madame de Fer about Montsimmard and a Templar you knew there.”

“Imagine that. I should compliment him on his creativity.  Perhaps I should send him to guard Varric and see what trouble they get into together.”

“Come see me when you’re really home?” Cullen laughed.

“Of course,” she laughed, “First thing. I promise.”  She pressed up against him.  “Mmm…. You’re so warm.”  Just as he was going to shift his hands to hold her closer, she stepped back, and turned into a bird, landing on his arm, and rubbing her head against his furry shoulder.

“That’s… really strange to watch.”

She backwinged off his arm, and landed on the floor, and shifted again. “Better?”

“Far.”   He knelt to help her up.  “Are you sure you can’t stay?”

She cupped his head. “Only long enough to eat something.  There will be no hiding my – talent - if I do.  This way, there are only rumors.  Rumors can be controlled.  Best to keep this a secret - at least for now.  We don’t need Corypheus shooting down every raven in the sky hoping it’s me.  Leliana and the Baron would never forgive me if ravens become rarer than griffons.”

 

 

_< EotD>_

 

When they truly returned to the Keep, Cullen heard the horn, from his place in the training ring. He shook off his preoccupation, and focused on Rylen.  “Come on, Knight-Captain,” he challenged. “Take me down, and you don’t have to go back to the Approach.  Shouldn’t be that hard… You’re not that old.  Yet.”

“With old age comes experience,” Rylen drawled. “And treachery.”

Cullen hooted, “You’re as treacherous as a two day old cheese bread. Tough on the teeth, maybe, but no threat.”

“Eat me,” Rylen challenged, and Cullen heard a familiar laugh ring out behind him. His lips pulled into a smile, and he spun towards the older man, intent on the fight.  Rylen dodged, still agile.  “Showing off for your girl, Commander?  What are you, eighteen?  Think she’ll kiss me instead when I win?”

“Least I have someone to show off for, old man. Besides your Mam, anyway.”

Rylen narrowed his eyes, “You’re asking for it, Cullen.”

“What, is your mother insulted?” Cullen motioned him forward. “Come on.  Quit dancing with me, Rylen.  It’s sparring.  One of us is supposed to get hit.”

Rylen moved faster than he expected, but he still dodged, with just a tap to his shield arm. “Too slow, Commander.”

“Fast enough,” Cullen panted, and glanced at Avexis. She leaned back against the wall of the forge to watch, Cassandra at her side, but his eyes flicked back to Rylen, who was a microsecond too slow to take advantage of his preoccupation.  He blocked, and swung, and then swept his feet out from under him.  Victorious, he stood over him.  “Yield?”

“I yield,” Rylen grumbled, and Cullen sheathed his sword. “Damn it, I thought I had you, with the Inquisitor back there giggling with her girlfriend.”  Rylen winked at Cassandra and Cullen shot another look at Avexis.  Her lips were pressed together, trying not to laugh.  Cassandra’s lip curled in disgust - and possibly humor.  “Forgot that love can make a weak man strong.”  The lip twitched.  Definitely humor, however much the Seeker might try to hide it.

Cullen snorted, “Don’t push it, Rylen.” He paused, and whispered, “You didn’t really think I’d lose in front of her though, right?  In front of the Inquisitor?”

Rylen snickered, “Maybe I let you win, to look good for your lady, ever think about that?”

Cullen narrowed his eyes, “Latrines, I think, and then… the Western Approach. Or would you prefer a new venue?  There’s always the Emprise du Lion… that might let you cool down a bit.”

“I’m joking, and of course I’m going back to the Western Approach. Idiots can’t do without me, out there.” Rylen laughed aloud and then bowed, “Inquisitor.  Seeker Pentaghast.” His eyes flicked up to meet the Seeker’s and he winked again.  “You’re obviously superior to me in every way, Commander.”  Cassandra narrowed her eyes at the man and opened the door to the forge, her disgusted noise ringing out even over the ringing noise of the hammers.

Cullen leaned back against the rail, turning his back to Avexis. “Nice to hear you admit it.”  Avexis climbed up the rail behind him and leaned over his head, smiling.

“I’ll… just be on my way,” Rylen slapped his arm. “Good round.  See you tomorrow… if you’re not too busy dallying with your lady to get out of bed.  Or too exhausted because you can’t keep up with her.”  Rylen laughed, “Send her my way if you can’t keep her satisfied.”  His eyes flicked to the forge.  “Or not.”

“Tomorrow, then,” Cullen ordered, hardly paying attention to his friend’s words, and not taking his eyes off Avexis, still hanging over him, her braid draping over her shoulder. “Hi…” he whispered.

“Bonjour,” she whispered back, and then bent and kissed him upside down over the fence, cupping his hot cheeks in her colder palms. Cullen’s eyes widened in surprise at her forwardness, and then closed, just before she pulled away. “I missed you.”

“And I you.” She stepped down, and he turned to face her over the fence, his eyes feasting on her.  Her cheeks were red with wind and sunlight, her hair brighter than ever.  He leaned his forehead against hers.

“Do you have some time for me?” She sounded eager, and he was tempted…

“For you? Always.” His voice was hoarse as he mentally rearranged half a dozen appointments. 

She smiled, and his world lit up. “I was hoping we could spend some time together.”

Cullen’s smile grew, “I need a bath first.”

She kissed him again, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop, not for a long moment, even there in the ring with half of the tavern standing at the door staring and every guard on the battlements ignoring their job in awe and envy. “I could share.” She whispered, and his pulse throbbed.

Cullen hesitated, “Ladybird, Josie wouldn’t approve…”

“Come up, please?”

He shivered, lost in the hope in her eyes. “Give me a moment.  I’ll just grab some clean clothes, and then… I’m yours.”

“For how long?”

“Forever.”

“I’ll take until I have to leave for the Wastes,” she laughed, and climbed down. “I’ll have them prepare a bath in my chamber.  The door will be unlocked.  Secure it behind you?”

Ten minutes later, Cullen made his way up her stairs again, just as hesitant as the first time, four days ago. “Avexis?”

“I’m here,” her voice hitched, and he peeked over the rail to find her on her bed. “Commander.”  Her hands worked between her legs.  “Started without you.  Forgive me?”

He groaned, “Stop that. I need a bath before I dare touch you.”

“Take one after,” she grinned, wicked and sharp. “Come here.”

He closed his eyes and drew closer. “Open your eyes,” she whispered.

“Demon.”

“Definitely NOT a demon!” She laughed. “I can’t be possessed, Cullen.”  He opened his eyes, confused, only to catch her licking her own fingers. 

“Definitely a demon.” His voice cracked.

“I’ll tell you… after. After your bath, if you insist.  Clothes?  Can’t wear clothes in the bath.”

Sighing, he disrobed, unbuckling and removing items with aching muscles, feeling her eyes on him. “Can I use your Embrium?”

“Already steeping.” Avexis rose and led him towards the bath.  “Get in,” she purred.  “I’m going to wash your hair.”  As he climbed in, she leaned over and whispered, “I just want to touch you.”

The lather worked into his curls, with her clever hands soothing his prickling scalp, and the tips of her breasts brushing his back every few seconds burning fiery trails in their path. “You kissed me in front of everybody, earlier.  You’ve never done that before.”

“Felt like it. You didn’t stop me.  You kissed me back.”

“Did something happen to inspire such actions?”

“Maybe.”

“Are you going to tell me what has you so… confident?”

She whispered in his ear, tilting his head back to rinse the suds out. “I was Tranquil.  The Rite of the Seekers makes them Tranquil.  I was… restored by a spirit of Faith.  They summon such a spirit during their Rite.  Seekers cannot be possessed for this reason.  Ergo…”

Cullen’s eyes flicked open. “Shit.”

She laughed in delight. “I know.”

He pulled her into the tub, and she straddled his legs. “You can’t ever be possessed,” he repeated.

“Such logical abilities are likely why Cassandra made you the Commander of my armies,” she touched his nose, and trailed the fingers down to his lips. He kissed them.  “Fuck me?”

He sighed at her vulgar words, “I missed you, too, love. My heart pines when we’re not together… seeing you for a moment and then watching you flit away… I longed for you for days.”

“Yes, yes, all of that, too. Now… fuck me?”

“No,” he kissed her and the shock he got made him shiver as it grounded to the copper tub. “No, I want something slow.  You’re here…”

“We’ve already done it in the water, and this tub is too small. I want something… different.”  She rose and grabbed one of the towels warming by the fire, wrapping it around her expertly, the edge of her hair damp, and hanging past her breasts.  “I’ll wait.”

He took his time, soaping down and watching her, half making sure she behaved herself, and half hoping she wouldn’t, as she dried out, watching him with her head resting sideways on her knees as she sat on the hearth rug, her blond hair draping down to her calves. “You’re beautiful.”

“Merci.”

“I did miss you.”

“And I you.” The cloth he was using brushed against his hard cock and he hissed.  “Trouble, Cullen?”

“You’re trouble.”

“Sadly true,” she didn’t sound worried. She sounded amused.  “What will you do with me?”

“Follow you forever, and hopefully shield you from the worst of whatever you stir up.”

“You keep saying that,” she rolled her eyes. “At least now I have a valid argument for staying out of the Circle, after we defeat Corypheus.  Harder to convince everyone that I need to be made Tranquil for everyone’s safety, when the Seekers go through the same thing.  Nobody tells them they aren’t stable, no matter the nightmares in their past.  Cassandra saw her parents executed for treason, and her brother murdered by blood mages, for the Maker’s sake.”

He stopped washing, “You don’t… you don’t want to go back?" 

“I never did.” She frowned, “You thought I wanted to?  That’s not what being a loyalist is, mon amour.  It’s about standing for the rules, for the idea that we need a Circle, to teach children, to teach control.  The College can’t exist alone - knowledge for its own sake doesn’t teach children not to burn their friends accidentally.  The Circle was supposed to pick up the… what was the word… ‘the slack’?  Is that right?”

He nodded.

“The slack, then. Cassandra has the Book of the Seekers.  It was begun long ago, before the Circles.  It says so many things…” her words trailed off.  “You should ask her to let you read it.  The question in my mind is not whether the Circle is necessary - it is.  The question is whether or not the Chantry should stand over it.  Perhaps… not.”  Avexis frowned.  “It’s a troubling thought, whether given our mistakes we are capable of watching over ourselves.  But all authorities make mistakes.  Mistakes come with life, I would think.”

He wasn’t sure whether Cassandra would let him read that Book, but that was hardly the point. He tilted an eyebrow.  “You want to stay… free.”

“Oui. With you, if you’ll have me.”

His breath stopped. “I would.”  They stared at each other for a moment.  “Say something.”

“I don’t think there’s anything left to say.”

“Then come here, and help me dry off.”

“On me?”

“That would work.” She smiled and rose, stepping towards him.

“I thought you’d never ask.”


	52. Safe Journeys, Wise Spirits, and Golden Halla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a note to say that we've fixed the canon problems in the previous two chapters. No major impact to the story, but the errors have been corrected.
> 
> And thanks to Mykki for pointing them out! We both missed it, and Cole doesn't deserve to be blamed for a murder he didn't commit.

Avexis left for the Wastes a mere two days later, trying to make up for the lost time by pushing herself. The battles there were a slow grind, enlivened only by the company of both the Chargers, and being reunited with Dorian, who always had a pithy comment while hurling rocks down at Venatori heads.

A month later, they were finally free to leave, the Venatori, if not routed, at least prevented from their purposes, and they worked their way back through Orlais, by means of the Exalted Plains.

 “We’ve been gone too long,” whined Dorian as they worked towards the summoning circle set up in the middle of the Plains - the construction barely visible among the many rocks and minor hills of the area.  “Why are you doing the Egg and Vivienne favors?”

“I told you, I promised Solas that we would check on his Spirit of Wisdom… friend. And Vivienne was responsible for the removal of Pierre.  I owe her a dead wyvern or five.”

The elf in question sighed. “I am present, you realize?”

“Immaterial.” Dorian waved at the elf in dismissal. “Why are you bothering with such things, Avexis?  Why, when we could be home by now?  Don’t you miss your dear Commander?”

Avexis ignored his last question, “Because it’s WISDOM, Dorian. You don’t ignore Wisdom.  You nurture it, idiot.  We’re not going to let Wisdom become a slave of some mage with more ambition than sense.”  She paused, “You miss Skyhold’s wine cellar, your soft bed, and clean clothing far more than you are worried about Cullen’s pining.”

“I just want to be back in something like civilization. Sooner, would be better than later.”

“Go back to Tevinter, then, it’s only a few weeks North… if you go by ship, and don’t get boarded by Raiders, or…” They rounded the corner and spotted the circle, and what stood within, howling its frustration at the world.  “Merde,” Avexis’ accent was thicker after being among her own people for weeks on end.  “Ce n’est pas la Sagesse, Solas*.”

“Yes,” he admitted, looking away.

“C’est le Fierté*, Solas.”

“Yes.”

“Can it go back to what it was?” Avexis asked, slowly, having to concentrate on forming the words in Common.

Solas glanced up, surprised and wary. “It means something you thought to ask.  It’s possible to break the Summoning Circle, at least, and perhaps… perhaps there is a chance, if we act quickly.”

“The stones, then?” She swung down her staff. “How do we keep from hurting it?”

“We don’t,” Dorian snarked. “Pride goeth before a fall, as they say.  It has to be destroyed.”

“We have to try,” Avexis argued. “That thing is Wisdom, on its better days.  Save it, Dorian!”

“Your power is going to your head,” Dorian sniffed. In the near distance, Pride roared its defiance at them.  “Did handling two and three Prides at a time in the Wastes make you long for a challenge?”

“Good. I hope it has.” Avexis narrowed her eyes. “It’s about time I grew some confidence, after a month in the Wastes and three more weeks fighting across Orlais.  Aim for the stones, not the demon.  If it tries to hurt you…”

“If…” Dorian muttered.

“Then back away! Run, if you have to.  We’re going to save it.”  A small group of mages approached from the nearby hills, and Avexis cast a barrier over her friends on instinct, as they spoke.

“Are you here to help us?” A far too plump mage asked.  “The demon…”

“We’re not here to help you,” Solas growled at the man.

“No, we’re not,” Avexis admitted. “Am I to assume you’re behind this?”  She waved at the demon.  “You should know better…” she eyed their robes, worn and wrinkled, but in a style that screamed, ‘Free Marches’, instead of Orlais.  The group’s leader had a mark on his staff that she recognized, all too well.  “Kirkwall?”  She sniffed, “Figures.”

The mage seemed to inflate. “I was a senior enchanter in the Kirkwall Circle…”

“That explains much,” Avexis countered, brittle and hard. “I’m familiar with what happened there.”

“Inquisitor… please,” Solas’ tone was begging. Avexis dropped her need to confront the mages with their use of blood magic in favor of listening.  Solas never sounded like that.  “My friend…”

“Inquisitor?” The Enchanter’s eyes widened. “You’re the…” He glanced at her forehead and backed away.

“I can break it,” Avexis voice was firm. “All of you, destroy the stones.”  She eyed the mages, “And if you’re not going to help, I would strongly suggest you stay out of the way.  That Pride looks angry, and I’m not responsible if it decides to go after you in retaliation.”  The mages, muttering bitterly, backed away until they stood against a wall of boulders.

Avexis lifted her hand and lightning arced from every stone. “At least I can’t really hurt it,” she laughed, and flung herself into the battle.

“You’re going to get us all killed!” Dorian shouted at her, but gamely cast another barrier, and invigorated them so that they would move faster, despite their sore muscles.

In the end, it was Solas himself who destroyed the last stone, and released the demon from the summoning. It shrank down from its terrifying form to a thin green wraith with a broken voice, huddling helplessly in the tall grass of the Plains, mana drifting away from it as if it were bleeding upwards.

Solas knelt, and conferred with the spirit in murmured Elvhen, phrases that Avexis only half understood.

“I’m sorry,” the apostate whispered.

“I’m not. I’m happy.  I’m me again.”  The spirit’s voice warbled slightly, and Avexis’ eyes widened at the implications.  In the background, Dorian murmured a curse as the same thought occurred to him - and he likely didn't understand what they were saying.  Elvhen?  From a spirit?  “You helped me.  Now you must endure.  Guide me into death?”

“As you say,” Solas raised his hands, and released it, with a gesture she remembered from her earliest studies in the Spirit school. “Dareth shiral, my friend.  Safe journeys.”

“You did it,” the same self-satisfied mage marveled. “You…” he didn’t get a chance to answer.

“You!” Solas stood and advanced on the man. “You’re responsible!  I’ll kill you for this!”

“Solas,” Avexis began, not liking the way the apostate’s eyes were flashing.

“Inquisitor – these… men. They killed my friend!  They corrupted her!”

The plumpest man huffed, “The book said it could help us!”

“Shut. Up.” Solas gritted out. “Inquisitor, they played with powers they didn’t understand.  This… this murder is the result!”

The man somehow puffed himself up even more. “Murder?  It was a demon.  You can’t murder something that isn’t alive.”

“Don’t flaunt your ignorance,” Avexis snapped, and then paused, confused. “Solas – your friend, could Wisdom have survived?” 

“She would have lived indefinitely, had they not – murdered her!”

Avexis weighed the mages, closed her eyes, and as she turned away, ordered, “Do it. If you don’t, they’ll just try again.”  She turned to Cole, “Cole, can you find the book…”

In an explosion of power that she had never seen from the apostate before, the mages were gone before she could finish the sentence. She missed the spell in her distraction, but Dorian swore softly under his breath, “Kaffas.”  Her friend’s eyes were wide – with respect, and something very like fear.

Solas closed his eyes and lowered his hands. “I need to be alone.”  He disappeared over the rocks, his staff the last sight of him before he vanished from view.  “Don’t follow me.”

She didn’t bother trying to stop him. Instead, she went and studied the glyph marks on the stones, but they were all ruined, beyond repair.  There was no sign of the book the mages had used, even when she ordered the rest of her friends to search for their camp.  There was no camp.

It was if they had never been there at all.

She made her way back somberly to the river at sundown, just across from the Dalish camp on the other side, wondering if the Dalish had assisted them. It seemed unlikely, given the hostile glances they cast her way.  She hesitated – she knew little of the Dalish, beyond their most basic history.  She settled herself on a slab of stone, not attempting to hide herself – even she knew that Dalish scouts were the finest in the world.

For some time, she sat and watched the elves move around, puzzling why they looked so… permanent, in the middle of what had been a war zone. “Copper for your thoughts?” A coin fell into her lap, and Dorian’s moustache appeared soon after in her peripheral vision.  “You’re not the sort to sit and ponder from whence you came, Avexis.”

“Today I am,” she tried to shrug and failed, realizing how exhausted she truly was. “Today I tried to save one of the rarer spirits I’ve ever met, and failed.  Today I heard a language that’s mostly dead come from someone I thought I knew… if not well, then well enough.  I barely understood what he said, but I’m not stupid, Dorian.”  She took a deep breath, “That spirit knew Elvhen.  How old was it, that it could have done such a thing?”  She frowned, watching a distant elven woman gather water at the stream.  “What else has the Circle forgotten - to the point that we never knew it existed?  What else could we learn, if we only knew what to ask?”  She tore up a tuft of grass, and let it fall into the river, swept swiftly downstream.  “If only I’d found that book… even with Solas gone, perhaps it held answers.”

“Should I go sign up for your Keeper robes then, to satisfy your newfound curiosity about the Dalish gaps in knowledge?”

“Don’t be absurd.” Avexis narrowed her eyes.  “What else does Solas know? What could he teach us, and those poor people across the river? What could we learn of the way elves were?  How much more of their history does he have stored up in his eggy little head?  Why doesn’t he tell them?  Why won’t he share?”

Dorian sighed, patted her leg and rose, “Perhaps he tried, bella donna. Given the intractable nature of some of the city elves I know…” he sneezed something that sounded like ‘Avexis’ and ‘Sera’.  “…perhaps they didn’t want to know.  Perhaps they preferred their own comforting lies, instead of the truth.”  He stared out over the river.  “Are you going to watch them watch us all night?”

“Non. I’m going to go speak to them.”  She hadn’t realized what she intended to do until she said it.

Dorian shivered. “You know, I’ll think I’ll stay on this side of the river, if you don’t mind.  I don’t imagine the Dalish are fond of ‘Vints." 

“I wouldn’t go, but I think… I think I must.” She rose, and brushed off her armor.

“Do me a favor, bella donna?”

“Oui, Dorian?”

“Take someone with you?” Dorian waved his fingers in the elves’ direction.  “They don’t – look friendly.”

Avexis turned to face him. “Who would I dare take, Dorian?  Cassandra?  The Shemest Shem that ever wore Seeker armor?  Blackwall? He’s also a pretty Shemmy Shem.  Solas is gone – but he despises the Dalish.  Sera is the unelfiest elf I’ve ever met, and that’s saying something to anyone that knows me. Vivienne is back at the main camp, reading about wyverns – and I can’t imagine bringing a First Enchanter into a Dalish camp.  Bull?  I don’t want them to think I’m trying to recruit them into the Qun.  What good would that do?”  She turned back.  “Non.  Those people are in danger.  They’re in what was until recently a war zone, and I think their caravans are broken down.  See - how the sails are torn?  They’ve been barely eating - I think they’re running out of food.  Look how skinny – even for elves.  I haven’t seen anyone who looks like a hunter come back all afternoon.”  She sighed, “The Inquisition is going to help this clan.  They’re going to die otherwise.”

“How are we going to help? You’ve just ruled out all of your companions except for...”

Avexis grinned, ruefully, “I am the Inquisition – ask Josephine, if you doubt. If you’re worried about me, you can watch from a safe distance.  Here will suffice.  Don’t scare them, though.  I’m… I’ll become a raven if I need to get away.”

“I’ll go,” a meek voice said behind them both. “Take me.  They won’t remember, and I’ll keep you safe.  They need me.”

Avexis smiled, “I was hoping you’d volunteer, Cole.”

“They need help,” Cole agreed. “I can hear them.  They’re scared of you, of us.  Not enough of anything.  Cold at night, getting colder.  Good omen, but the halla keeps running away.  Wolves, attacking the halla, the hunters can’t find the game.”  The man frowned, “They’ll test you.  They know who you are.  What you are.  Not like them, whatever you think or say or do.”  Cole’s eyes flashed, “There’s a young man missing.  I can save him.  Go.  I’ll be back.”  He disappeared in a flash, and Avexis sighed.

“Not quite the help you were hoping for?” Dorian’s voice lilted in amusement.

“Cole knows best how to do what he does,” she shifted back and forth on her feet, hesitating at the water’s edge. “I can do this.”

“It’s only a little water.”

“This from the man who made Bull carry him over the last little stream, so he didn’t get his Tevinter leather boots wet.  Besides, something much larger divides them and I than a shallow stream,” Avexis swallowed, and began to wade.  “Let’s see if I can build a bridge.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Dorian’s voice was barely audible over the sound of the rushing water.

 

 

_< EotD>_

 

Bridges were slow to build. But she kept trying, ignoring the insults of ‘flat ear’ and the use of ‘Circle mage’ as if it was an epithet as she gathered spindleweed with and for them, and delivered a gift of Great Bear hides from Inquisition stores from their main camp.  Slowly, the words began to change, and it was with humility that she first heard the title, “Inquisitor” from the woman in charge of the clan’s supplies.

Cole returned the next day – shortly after a young man, who stared at his feet while his sister first scolded and then embraced him. Avexis tried not to watch as the boy scowled and pouted.  “You saved him?” She asked Cole that night, in their makeshift campsite just outside of the Dalish encampment.

“Yes.” Cole was solemn.  “He was trying to summon a demon.  The demon didn’t like it.  The boy was scared.  I came.  It was all right.”  He fiddled with some rocks in front of him, stacking and unstacking them.  “He won’t do it again.  I think."

“Thanks, Cole,” Avexis curled up inside her bedroll. “I hope they realize how lucky they are to have you helping.  I know I am.”

That made the spirit-man beam a little, before going back to his game of rocks. Avexis got up after a moment, and made her way into her tent, to sleep.  With Cole on guard, she was safe enough.

She bought Solas a set of armor from their craftsman, knowing the clan could use the money – even though she could barely afford to spend her personal gold on such things. Hopefully he would come back from his sabbatical long enough to wear it.  If not, she was sure there was an elf somewhere it would fit – but she’d never wear it.

She wasn’t Dalish, or a Keeper.

But she walked out one afternoon and called a minor miracle of a halla to her. She sat on a rock in awe, as it walked around her.  The creature didn’t seem… special, other than the coloring, but it was beautiful, all the same.  And halla were elegant creatures, that was certain.  Avexis wasn’t certain she had ever seen anything so naturally graceful.  She had an urgent desire to take the form - but quelled it.

She was not Dalish, and taking such a form might cause offense.  The Halla were so much more than herd animals.

“Come with me,” she whispered to it, when she had piqued its curiosity.

 _Why?_ It bounded two steps before her, and then circled back. _I want to run._

“They’ll keep you safe. There are wolves, and hunters.”

 _There are always wolves and hunters. I will outrun them all._ It laughed as it bound away. _You could, too._

“You can’t run forever,” chided Avexis. “You will tire, and then the wolves will come.”

It turned, and came back, cautiously. _I don’t tire quickly._

“But they have a safe place to sleep – with others of your kind. You wouldn’t need to fear night.  Is that not worth something?” 

It nuzzled her arm. _Do you have such a place, friend? I see you and your companion. He never sleeps._

Avexis scratched at the base of its horn, wondering at the soft texture of the velvet – the horns were fuzzy this time of year. “I… do.  A long way from here.  And my friend never tires.” 

 _He is fortunate._ The halla backed away.  _I will go, then. They are kind – they’ve been leaving me sweet flowers and fruits for days.  Will you come with me?_

“I will, but I won’t be able to stay. I have to go back – to my own place.” 

She watched the halla in the camp, standing aside by the Keeper, until it came up and pressed against her, nosing her in affection. “The halla - their minds… they’re so… calm,” she whispered to Keeper Hawen.  “I’ve never known an animal so at peace.”  She stroked it, and it strolled away, towards the Keeper.  “Elle est belle.” 

The Dalish Keeper eyed her appreciatively. “Had you been born to us, the clan would have seen you devoted to Ghilan’nain for your abilities, Lethallan.”

Avexis watched him warily, “Really?”

“You can transform into creatures - I watched you, from afar, as you transformed into a bear, and slew the demons that threatened our dead’s resting place. Ghilan’nain was beloved to the People.”  The Keeper cleared his throat.  “Your spirit friend saved the young man who might become my First one day - if his impulsivity passes with age, and his ambition ceases to outstrip his ability.”

“You can see Cole…”

“I see many things I am not supposed to see.” The Keeper’s eyes were more kind, though lined with stress and trouble.   “Even his sister – who has no love for flat ears - blesses you and your help.  With you here, for a just a few days, the wolves don’t trouble us, the hunters have told me that they’ve moved on - further north, towards the battlegrounds.  Don’t tell me that isn’t your doing, da’len.” He tapped his staff, as if coming to a decision.  “You’ve earned our trust, with your hard work.  And this knowledge you brought us from the Emerald Graves, about Red Crossing… we are in your debt, despite the loss of our clan members.  It would have been far easier to keep this from us, to protect your Chantry.  To know that we were responsible for the first death, and for such a reason, is a harsh lesson, but one that we will learn.”  He was silent for a moment, “Is it still your Chantry, da’len?”

“I… don’t know. I’ve learned things… things that trouble me.” Avexis sighed, “But I’m not Dalish, Keeper.  I never will be.  I’m not a city elf either.  I’m… myself.  Not one, or the other.”  She fidgeted slightly, rocking back and forth.  “There are more elves, like me.  Circle elves, raised in the Chantry, knowledgeable of history, language, and magic, but… ignorant of culture. We have no place to learn it, as neither the city elves or the Dalish trusts us.”

“A difficult place to be,” the Keeper straightened. “But you are a friend to our clan, Inquisitor, no matter your allegiances.  We won’t forget your help in this troubled time.  Now, about Loranil…”

“Will you let him join us?”

The Keeper sighed, “I will not stop him. We owe you too much, and Corypheus threatens us all.  My clan will survive the winter, because of you.  But please, send him home safely.  Our clan is too small to lose any more members.”

“I will do what I can,” Avexis promised, shivering.

The Keeper smiled. “Go.  Go back to your camp and get warm, and reassure your companions that we have not killed you or corrupted you beyond recovery.  Loranil will make his own way to Skyhold.  It will be good for him, to stand alone.  Best to let the young who thirst for adventure find it, and make their own mistakes.  It makes for a harsh lesson, but one they never forget.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ce n'est pas la Sagesse. - That's not Wisdom.
> 
> C'est le Fierte. - That's Pride.
> 
> And can I just say that I love the way Wisdom and Pride read in Orlesian? How pretty are those? Just me? Okay.


	53. Hats and Spats

Avexis emerged through Skyhold’s portcullis, worn, sunburnt, and weary, and stunned to find Solas waiting for her, along with the advisors. She eyed the massive piles of paperwork in Josie’s hands, glanced wistfully at Cullen, who had a much smaller sheaf of paperwork, before sighing and turning to her companion instead.  “Solas.”  She approached the man, cautiously, unsure of her reception.  “I wasn’t sure you were coming back at all.  We couldn’t save Wisdom – I would have understood if you felt you needed to leave.”

“I could hardly abandon you now.” The elf’s face was unsure.  “I… found a cave, and slept for a time, searching for my friend in the Fade.”

Avexis shifted uncomfortably, “And…your friend, Wisdom **…** Did you find her?”

He tilted his head, “There was nothing there. But there were… stirrings in that corner of the Fade.  Perhaps, in time, she – or one like her – will come again.”  He sighed, “In the meantime, I will remain at your side.”

“I thank you.” Avexis was stiff.  “You are a valued member of the Inquisition, and we would not have gotten far without your aid.”

“There are rifts remaining. It is more important to focus on such things.  We’ve all had losses.”  He drew away.  “Forgive me.  You know where to find me, if you have questions.”

Avexis let him go, since she hardly knew how to ask what she wanted to know. Instead, she turned to Cullen and embraced him tight, feeling truly safe for the first time in nearly two months, and ignored Josie’s worried clucking and Leliana’s barely audible snickers in favor of hearing his heartbeat against her ear, and his surprised intake of breath.

Holding him felt like coming home. If only she didn’t need to leave again quite so soon.

 

_< EotD>_

 

“You’re worried about something,” Cullen murmured, coming up behind her as she stared out his window slit that night.

“L’Emprise du Lion, of course,” Avexis murmured, trying to turn back to his desk, where their latest maps of the area rested. It would be their largest challenge yet – Red Templars dominated the place, harvesting the lyrium in some manner – signs suggested the quarry there, but why they had chosen there, when the whole place was locked down in unseasonably cold temperatures…

Cullen hummed into her hair, and wrapped his arms around her to keep her still. “No.  Something else.  Ever since you came back from the Exalted Plains, you’ve been… pensive.”

Avexis pressed her lips together. “It’s nothing.” 

Cullen laughed. “The lyrium hasn’t taken that many of my memories, love. I have sisters. My Father always told Branson and I that when a woman says, ‘It’s nothing’, that it’s either something she doesn’t want to discuss, or that it’s a very big something that she can’t put into words.”

“Or it really is nothing,” Avexis snapped, and felt Cullen flinch at her temper. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry.  It’s a very big something that I can’t put into words.  It involves elves…  and Solas…  and the Dalish, and me, and city elves and… Maker-take-them every kind of elf.  Including Sera, as the type of elf that doesn’t really want to be an elf at all.”  She wriggled in his arms, trying to settle herself more comfortably.  “I want it to be nothing, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t. But maybe only to me.  It makes my skin crawl, the thought that it’s not nothing, and that I’m just ignoring something because it’s easier…”

“What’s easier?” Cullen puzzled. “You’re tormenting yourself.  There’s nothing easy about that.”  He paused, thinking.  “Come on.  Let’s go up to the roof.  We haven’t had a moment to get away from – all of this for too long.  Let’s go up, look at the stars, and talk.”  She allowed him to pull her towards the ladder, and climbed when he nudged her, only stopping to pull his immaculate blanket from his bed before finishing the ascent.

He followed close behind, and they settled down, blanket around both of them. Avexis huffed and looked up at his chin, before he lowered it to see her better.  “Cullen, do you think I’m… prejudiced?”

“Yes.”

Avexis recoiled, “Really?”

“And so am I. I don’t think anyone is free of prejudice.  It’s not until we look it in the eye and face it for what it is that we can overcome it.”  Cullen caught her closer.  “The question is – why are you prejudiced?”

“Because I was taught…”

“No. If this is about elves, then why are you prejudiced against your people?”

“Because they hate me?”

“It’s not like you to hate people because they hated you first. And from your reports of Loranil’s clan, they don’t hate you at all.  You did wonderful things for people you profess to dislike.  Ask the right question, Ladybird.”

Avexis squirmed as he wrapped his arm tighter around her. “You’re not making this easy.”

“It shouldn’t be easy. Do you think it was easy to realize that I was angry at mages – all mages – irrationally?  That it was nothing they had done, but my own thoughts at fault?”

“But you weren’t angry at them. You were angry at yourself.  And scared.”

“Exactly. My hatred wasn’t hatred.  It was - is - fear.”  He rubbed her lower back.  “What are you scared of, Ladybird?”

She leaned her head against his chest. “I… don’t remember my parents, Cullen.  I don’t remember anything, really, before I came to the Circle.  I have a story – told me by Templars – and a pair of pointed ears.”

“So, you fear the unknown. You fear who you were before the Circle?”

She released a shuddering breath. “Yes.”  They were both quiet for a long time.  “I’m scared that if I embrace being an elf, that will make me – less than I am.  Make the experiences I had, the things that made me who I am, less valid.  And perhaps I shouldn’t even try.  Is it insulting, to be curious?  Would I be some clan’s First, if I hadn’t been given up?  Should I feel bitter that fate wasn’t mine?  Or perhaps relieved?”  She leaned back and looked up at him.  “Would I even want that?  I don’t like the way the Dalish have to live, Cullen.  Does that make me a bad elf?”

Cullen snorted, “As if I would know?”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head at him. “You know what I mean.  Even Sera’s elfier than she likes to make out.  She’s an archer – a brilliant one.  Her abilities go far beyond natural talent.  I don’t know how she does what she does – but she’s closer to a mage than she’ll ever want to admit.”  She laughed, “Like Bull’s Dalish, just less obvious.”  She thought for a moment, “When I was a child, I heard a phrase once, at the White Spire.  ‘Derangement arcain.’  Arcane Derangement.  The idea is that magic, denied an opportunity to develop in one direction, will find another path.”

“And you think Sera is an example?”

“Have you ever met another person so obviously unwilling to be a mage?”

Cullen laughed. “No.  I can’t say that I have.  But enough to stop it from happening entirely?”

“I don’t know how it works, but working magic is about willpower and the Fade. It feeds off emotion.  It’s almost alive, but it’s not, and it doesn’t… like being denied.  If you try not to use it, it fights back – in your dreams, and your waking hours. With enough will **,** and a connection to the Fade… Magic finds a way. Sera may have changed the path of the magic, but she couldn’t stop it? Je ne le comprend pas.”  Avexis shrugged.  “It’s silly.  It’s not like it matters, either.  Just – she feels about magic the way I feel – felt – about Dalish elves.  It’s confusing.  And I’m sure she would rather not know, whereas I… am questioning whether I should try to find out.”

“Hmm,” Cullen tightened his arms around her. “Leliana has that letter, you know.  The Keeper that wrote to her, that recognized your name.  If you want to know, we could ask.”

Avexis opened her mouth to refuse, and then closed it again. “All right,” she whispered.  “We can ask.  Questions cost nothing, oui?”  She leaned her cheek against his fuzzy pauldrons.  “You’ll love me no matter what, n’est-ce pas?”

“Nothing could stop me,” he whispered, leaning down and lifting her chin to kiss her gently, his lips quirking sideways in humor. “Even if you turn out to be a dwarf in disguise.”

Avexis snorted, “I know you better than that, Commander.” She pulled away.  “Come on.  Back to planning the offensive.  These Red Templars aren’t going to just throw themselves on my staff to be impaled.  And you need to write the letter to that Historical Society about what they expect us to do about the bridge before either of us sleep.”

Cullen groaned, “Only Orlesians would care about how a bridge looks over whether or not it will get you to the other side.” He hoisted himself up on one hand and held the other out to her.

“Judicael's Crossing is a historical landmark. Have some respect for my culture,” she swatted him in the stomach, laughing.  “I’m more surprised that after a civil war, Red Templars, and dragons, that they bothered to contact us at all. Only nobles could ever manage to run a historical society in the face of three high dragons.”

 

 

_< EotD>_

 

Two nights before they were supposed to leave for the Emprise Avexis stood up at the head of the table in the Rest, excited beyond all reason. “I’ve something for all of you!” She took out her workbag.  “I’ve been working on these for months, ever since I heard we’d have to go to L’Emprise du Lion.”  She handed Cassandra a bundle, and so on around the table.  “Open them!”

Sera grinned, and pulled on her yellow and black one, with a very long tip, hiding her hair completely underneath it. “Aww… you shouldn’t have!”

“I made it long enough to use as a scarf,” Avexis beamed. “Do you like the colors?”

Sera tossed the end jauntily over her shoulder. “Beeeeeeees, yeah!!”

Bull tore into his package, and snorted in surprise. “How’s this supposed to work, Boss?”  Raising an eyebrow, he dangled the contraption by a single string. 

“My ultimate triumph!” She trilled and took it from him. “See, like this!  It fits around your horns, and ties… like so…” She fastened the pink pom-poms carefully underneath his horns in a loopy bow. “And then ties under your neck for the ear flaps!”  She flicked the massive pompoms in the center of his horns with satisfaction, and then backed off, nodding.  “It took me months to design.  But your ears won’t get frostbite now.” 

“Love the pink,” Varric snickered, lifting his own fuzzy orange beanie.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it? I had Dagna enchant them to make them combat worthy, so you don’t have to worry about head injuries…” Avexis’ face fell, hands twisting as she realized no one was putting them on except for Sera and Bull.  “Don’t you like them?”  The whole table was quiet.  Blackwall stared down at the watchcap in his hands, with the Grey Warden’s griffons centered and two braided ties dangling underneath, his face dark.  “If you hate them, you don’t have to wear them.”

“They’re wonderful,” Cassandra pulled her cloche on over her head, and glared at the rest of them. “Put them on,” she ordered.  One by one, they all settled their hats on their heads, mouths twisting at the others.

Vivienne stared at hers without touching it. “Darling… my gratitude about your assistance with the wyvern only extends so far.”

“It’s a hennin, Madame. I designed it to look like the one you always wear **.** ” Avexis took a deep breath.  “Would you do me the honor of wearing it?”

The Enchanter lifted the creation, and turned it upside down. “Is it stuffed with…”

“Down and raw wool, to fill the silk horns, and keep them stiff,” Avexis allowed herself a smile. “It will be quite warm, I believe.  I used merino wool, and my finest pair of needles.”  Vivienne stroked the fabric with an elegant finger, her face inscrutable.

Dorian lifted his with a single finger. “And what, pray tell, is this supposed to be?”  His had padded earflaps with a buckled strap for under the chin.

“Warm?” Avexis sniggered. “Try it on, Dorian.  I put tassels on the tip just for you.  Josie had to order the buckle from Minrathous to match your winter armor, from a silversmith there.  She’s the only person in on the secret.”

He blinked, “It… matches?” He lifted the hat, and smoothed his hair self-consciously.  “It will muss my hair…”

“No worse than any cowl, but if it bothers you, feel free to freeze,” Avexis rolled her eyes, and turned back to Solas. Things had been awkward, since he had returned.  Wisdom’s loss had hit him hard.  “Will you try it on, Solas?”

He stared at his simple knitted cap, with an Elvhen design of an owl picked out in the threads. “I… I don’t understand.”

“It’s a hat,” Dorian held up his metal tankard, trying to see his reflection in the dull metal surface. He adjusted a tassel so that it fell more elegantly, his cheeks flushed pink with suppressed delight.  “You put them on your head to stay warm.”  He pursed his lips at his upside down reflection.  “It will do, bella donna.”

Solas narrowed his eyes, and pushed back from the table. “I will not allow myself to be mocked, Inquisitor.”

“I wasn’t trying to…” Avexis began.

“An owl?” He hissed the words.

“There are Elvhen owls all over Skyhold. I made it to look like the mosaic we saw in the Emerald Graves – in the Emerald Knights ruin,” she protested.  “I thought… I thought you’d like it.  It’s a ‘thank you’, for everything you’ve done.  I thought it would be… useful.”

He narrowed his eyes, “Are you telling the truth?” 

“Why would I lie?” She pushed back.  “I’m not the one who keeps secrets.  I’m not the one who holds back knowledge that could help the People!”

“You know nothing about the People. Neither do the Dalish, for all their pretense.”

“Then teach me,” Avexis hissed. In his corner, Cole rocked back and forth, his hands pulling down on the leather brim of his newly knit hat.  “I want to know the truth!  The Chantry’s been wrong about so many things **,** and probably lied about others.  And of course, the Dalish are wrong, as well!  Look at how they live.  When you don’t have a home, it only makes sense that things get lost and forgotten. They made up what they didn’t remember, they didn’t have a choice. They want a history that is gone – but at least they’re looking! Lost or stolen, it doesn’t matter because they still don’t have it. They don’t even know why it’s gone, only that it is.  The City elves? They’re just ignorant because no one cares enough to even try to teach them.” With great difficulty, she calmed herself, shoulders heaving, “Teach someone something. Don’t hoard your knowledge like a fucking miser, afraid to share what you have.  No one is willing to share anything with any of them. They need what you know.”

Solas curled his lip. “Ask Morrigan.  She will tell you and them many amusing stories, I have no doubt.”  He rose, looking more regal than a shabby apostate had any right to look.  “I thank you for the gift.  Unfortunately, it is not to my taste, Inquisitor.  I apologize for my rudeness and wish you a good evening.”

“Morrigan knows what she’s read. Much of that is probably wrong. You’ve seen the truth in the Fade. But fine, run away, just like you always do,” Avexis snapped, and pulled back up her chair.  “See if I ever do anything nice for you ever again.”    She picked up her tankard and drank the contents in one coughing sputter.

Her friends were trying not to look at her. “I think it’s a nice hat,” Cole announced, in a very small voice.  “I like mine very much.  But I don’t think Solas likes owls.”

“Thank you, Cole.” Avexis’ voice wobbled.  “But I don’t think it’s about the hat.”

“He tried,” Cole whispered.

“No, he didn’t.” Avexis hunched over, supporting her head on one arm.  “I’m sorry, everyone.”  She drew breath and released, fogging the outside of her tankard.  “I didn’t mean to cause a scene.”

Sera snorted, “Eggy’s just an arse who doesn’t know how to accept a gift. Doesn’t matter if it’s shite, you say you love it, and wear it.”  She stroked hers down and round her neck.  “I really do love mine though,” she finished lamely.  “Just the thing, right?”

Avexis managed to laugh. “Merci, Sera.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iduna and I may have debated for months over how to make a hat that would work with Iron Bull's horns. He won't wear a shirt, so it seemed like this way at least his head would stay warm. Dorian Greatly Approves - except for the pompoms. Those are just tacky. ;)


	54. Bitter and Sweet

Two days later, Blackwall was missing when they gathered by the portcullis. “Not like Hero to be late, Ladybird,” Varric offered.  “Maybe you should go see if he’s under the weather?”

She frowned “’Under the weather?’  Aren't we all?”

“Sick,” Varric supplied.

“Or hungover,” Bull grunted.

“He was indulging rather heavily, in the tavern last night,” Avexis fretted, and swung herself down from her unicorn. “And he didn’t seem well.”  She handed the reins to Cullen – not that the Bog Unicorn would go anywhere, but… it made some of her companions nervous.  “I’ll go check the stables and the infirmary.”

He was in neither place, and after Avexis had checked the kitchens, the Herald’s Rest, Josephine’s office, and asked the guards if they’d seen him, it was almost an hour later. She sent a messenger back to the front gates to let the others know that they weren’t leaving after all, and turned to head back to Leliana’s aerie.

The runner met her on her way. “Inquisitor!”  She saluted, hand across her chest, and handed over a piece of paper.  “The Nightingale said to give this to you - we found it while we were looking through the stables.  Think it might have something to do with Blackwall’s absence.”

Avexis stared at the flyer – a broadsheet announcing the imminent execution of a man named Collier, the second for a man called Rainier, who was wanted for killing some noble – and his entire family. The family he was supposed to be protecting? 

She wasn’t familiar with the story. Why Blackwall had disappeared - and for this? The context escaped her entirely.  “Does Leliana know why Blackwall is interested in this Collier?” She asked finally.

“No idea, mum,” the runner shifted nervously. “She’s looking into it.”

Avexis slapped the page against her thigh. “I’ll consult with the Commander,” she told her.  “Thank you, Serah.”

“My pleasure, Inquisitor.” The woman backed away, eyes wide.

Whatever the reasons, whether he knew the man, or even intended to recruit him into the Wardens - it was unlike him to leave Skyhold without giving any word.

The paper lodged in her fist, she climbed the stairs to the battlements slowly, sunk far enough in her own thoughts to stumble when the steps ran out. She pushed open Cullen’s door, and entered.

He wasn’t there. Uncertain, she curled up in his chair, and racked her brain for an explanation.  If she just… let Blackwall go, believing that he would return when he could… no.  They were friends. From the first time they met, he had been blocking arrows for her. Whatever had happened here, she was going to give him her support.  Perhaps this Collier was a friend, no matter his past sins.

A friend Blackwall had never mentioned, in nearly a year of service… 

But Blackwall had always been reluctant to discuss his time in Orlais. General topics, of course, but never any particulars. Wardens left their past lives in the past, he claimed.

She had always figured he had been on the wrong side of a war. There were enough wars to choose from, even if you didn’t include the minor skirmishes amongst the nobles of her country.  Was it revenge?  Had this Collier killed the man he served?  Had he been so devoted a sellsword?

She smoothed the page out and read it again. “For killing an entire family,” she murmured aloud.

“Ladybird?” Cullen shut his door, and rubbed his neck. “I take it you didn’t find Blackwall.  I asked around the barracks - none of the men have seen him since last night.”

“He’s not to be found.” She handed the broadsheet to him.  “He’s gone, and… Leliana found this, in the stables.  I’m confused.  I think he might be in trouble - or this Collier is in trouble, anyway.  I want to help, if I can, but…”

“This… this is bad,” the Commander pressed his lips together. “I heard about this Thom Rainier – one of the worst betrayals of the Game, just before the Civil War started.  They never found him.”  He handed the sheet back.  “Do you think Blackwall knows Collier?  Or even Rainier?”

Avexis shrugged, “I don’t know. I only know he’s gone, and he doesn’t like to speak of his time serving in Orlais as a hired sword.  It’s… troubling.”

“We could go to Val Royeaux,” Cullen said slowly. “If you think it’s important enough to delay your trip to the Emprise du Lion to witness this execution.”

“If Collier is a friend of his, maybe -” Avexis sighed, “Blackwall has been a good friend to me.  I don’t want him to have to witness a hanging alone.  I know the Emprise needs attention – and I don’t want to ignore the importance of the quarry there, but…”

“It does, but we’ve already sent basic supplies for the villagers – they’ll arrive far in advance of your party in any case,” Cullen sighed. “I’ll go ask Dennett to ready the horses again.  I’ll… I can accompany you, if you like – Blackwall is my friend, as well as yours.  Perhaps you can leave for the Emprise from Val Royeaux – that will cut down on the travel time.  The rest of your companions could even get started without you.  There’s much to be done there they could handle, besides rifts and Red Templars.”

“I would appreciate that,” Avexis took his hand. “I’ll go tell Leliana to investigate the matter further.”

 

_< EotD>_

 

Cullen’s hands shook on Avexis’ shoulders, as he restrained her from darting towards Blackwall.

He nearly hadn’t recognized the haggard man standing over Collier, the noose now loose around the doomed man’s throat, as he declared his guilt to the crowd gathered beneath the gallows. Behind him, the rain pattered, shaking the leaves on the apple trees that flanked either side of the courtyard.

Together, they watched Blackwall die, and Thom Rainier be lead away to what would be his death. Avexis wretched herself away from his hands – no doubt they had been too tight on her arms.  He let them fall, and then gripped his sword, in a semi-conscious gesture of regaining control over himself.

He had never been so confused – not even in Kirkwall, before Meredith had revealed the depth of her madness. Or after learning how much she had concealed from him. This wasn’t the betrayal of a superior officer, this was the betrayal of a friend.

He had precious few friends – and to find out that one wasn’t who he thought he was…

He hated Blackwall… Rainier for what he had done. How Thom Rainier had hurt _her_ , the woman they both admired and respected beyond any other – how could he?

How dared he lie to her? To all of them?

And yet – had Thom Rainier not done more for his own redemption than he himself had? The Inquisition was his chance to atone – could he deny another man his own quest to make amends?  At Avexis’ request, he remained behind to talk to the Captain of the Val Royeaux Guard – absurdly wishing that it was Aveline he could speak to instead.  She’d been easy to work with, in the confusion following Kirkwall’s Chantry.  Fereldan expatriates with a common goal of making order out of insanity.

It was harder to find that here, as he attempted to excavate the truth from the Guard Captain. But they were both soldiers, in the end, a common thread, no matter nationality.  The story emerged – the prisoner had made a full, detailed confession.  Warden Gordon Blackwall had died on his way to Montsimmard after recruiting Rainier while he ran from the authorities.  Thom Rainier had ‘become’ the Warden, in an attempt to hide, but perhaps also out of regret for his prior acts.

The situation was a horrible mess. He was both relieved that this decision did not rest on his shoulders, and furious that Rainier would make the Inquisitor – his overwhelmed, overworked Avexis – suffer this way, on top of everything else she had to accomplish.

Either way she would grieve – either the death of a man that never existed, or the loss of trust that man had earned in battle after battle, at the price of his own blood. He took the time to pray before entering the dungeon that this wouldn’t break her.  That she could find a way to cope with the choice he must lay in front of her.  And he prayed for his own patience – that he might not let his own sense of betrayal taint her decision.

His own was so much lesser than hers – he’d fought with the man, trained recruits with him, admired his dedication to the cause and professional skill, believed him honest and kind, but comrades in arms were not the same as working together closely, month after month, nearly since her first trip to the Hinterlands.

Maker, had it been a year since the Conclave? How much longer would the war against Corypheus last?

His attention was pulled away from his dark thoughts as a ghostly Avexis rose from the gloomy shadows of stairs that led down to Black… Rainier’s cell, holding the wall of the stone prison. He rushed to support her.  “It’s true then?”

A silly question. The Guard was sure.  This man had known things about the murders that no one else knew.  It was him.

“Yes,” Avexis collapsed into his chest. “Yes.  It’s true.”  They were silent for a moment, more Inquisitor and Commander in that moment than lovers, despite the way he held her, the implications of Rainier’s past life reverberating through them both.

When she pulled away, he let her go. There would be rumors enough in Orlais of the ‘handsome’ Commander embracing his Inquisitor. 

She led the way out from the Guard’s offices, blinking away her tears in the weak sunlight trying to take place of the earlier rain. She leaned for a moment on the fountain nearby, staring at the goldfish that had taken up permanent residence with dull, blank eyes that worried him.  She shoved back, mouth firm, and marched for the gallows.  Cullen followed – as close as he could manage.  She stood before it, eyes narrowed in challenge, and then took an abrupt left, and vaulted the hedge – far more athletically than she would have a year ago.  Viciously, she twisted an apple from the tree.

Avexis held out the apple to Cullen. “Take a bite.” 

“Why? We’re supposed to get dinner at that restaurant…”

“An apple will not spoil your appetite. Take a bite.  And tell me what you taste.”

Cullen sighed and bit, bringing up a finger to the corner of his mouth to catch the juice. “Juicy.  Sweet.”  He looked vaguely impressed.  “I didn’t know Orlais had apples this sweet.  I didn’t think they had enough rain.”  He squinted at the fruit.  “Smaller than Fereldan apples, though.”

She slumped against the tree with relief. “Oh. Good.”

Cullen narrowed his eyes. “Inquisitor… what was that about?”

She smiled, tired eyes crinkling up at the corners, and nodded towards the tree. “Pick an apple.  And offer me a bite.”

Cullen sighed, and plucked a bright one. “Open,” her rosy lips closed on it instantly.  “And?”

“Mmm,” she crunched, hiding her mouth behind her hand, but her eyes shining bright with new tears. “Sweet.  So sweet…”

“And that means something?”

“If you take a bite of the tree by the gallows, and it’s sweet,” Her words were garbled as she swallowed before she laughed, “You’ll never betray me!” She threw herself at him, hugging him tight.  “Thank you for indulging me, Cullen.”

He shook his head. “Your country is a superstitious mess.”  In the near distance a pair of gossiping noblemen hid their giggles behind their gloves.  He narrowed his eyes at them, and they turned away.

“It’s foolish, I know, but… I feel better now,” she whispered, and released him. “Come on.”  She tugged him away, through the market and into the courtyard by the Chantry, towards a little alcove.  “In here,” she whispered, crooking her finger at him and drawing him in by the other hand.

He’d just held her hand through the whole of the market square. He should be worried – but it felt right.  He read the sign, “The Lover’s Alcove?  Avexis… this sounds like something Josie would not approve of,” but he followed her in, willingly enough.

“One of the better traditions of my country,” she smiled. “Now everyone in Orlais knows that we’re involved.”  She threw her arms around his neck again.  “Kiss me.”

“Here?!”

“Oui.”

He balked, “Rainier is imprisoned for murder, his life’s in danger… and there’s a Chantry Sister staring at us.”

“Do it anyway.  That’s an order, Commander.”

Cullen bent in and Avexis, tasting faintly of apple, worked his mouth open immediately. Grunting, he kissed her, pushing her back against the wall of the alcove, his mind whirling in confusion at her strange behavior, but hardly able to refuse.  When she drew back he tried again, “Love, we’re here for Black- Rainier, remember?”

“I’ll get him out. Somehow.  Leliana might help.  But… even if all my friends betray me… I know you won’t, now.”  Her face grew serious.  “Cullen – I have to get him out of there.  The Empress will execute him as a traitor, just as she did Gaspard.  You’ll forgive me for pardoning him, won’t you?”

He hesitated, “I thought I knew him.”

“We all did. And we knew someone – it just depends which man was the lie – Blackwall, or Thom Rainier?  Or whether this man is someone else entirely.  None of us are the same people we were ten years ago.”

He leaned against her forehead, sighing, “The decision is yours, Ladybird. Just… don’t expect us all to adjust quickly.”

“Of course not. I intend to pardon him – but I don’t know Thom Rainier.  The person I know is a man that threw himself in front of enemies to protect me from danger.  I owe him my life a dozen times.  And while my life is no more valuable than the family he…” her voice faltered, “…killed, I cannot ignore my debt.”

“Then I will write to Leliana immediately, and have her work something out.”

Avexis kissed him again. “Thank you,” she whispered.  “There’s no trust left between him and I, but maybe there will be again, in time.”  She sighed, “And thank you, Hot Templar, for allowing me to stuff you full of inferior Orlesian apples and hang all over you in the middle of Val Royeaux, just to make me feel better.”

Cullen chuckled, weakly, “My pleasure. I think.  Are you feeling better, then?”

“For now.” But she kissed him again.  “Let’s go to dinner.  I’m not hungry, but I will order an enormé jug of whisky, s’il vous plait, as Hawke would say.”  Cullen snorted at that.  “But after dinner…” she smiled, eyes still tired, but he was thankful of the glimpse of her usual self.  This betrayal wouldn’t break her.  “I’m sure I can come up with something.”


	55. Broken Wings and Reunions

The Emprise was colder even than they’d been expecting, physically and emotionally. Solas was sulking – or grieving, it was hard to tell which - and kept even more to himself than usual, and Rainier was absent – his release from prison being ‘negotiated’ by Josephine through the proper channels, as Leliana’s only useful suggestion involved yet another man dying in Blackwall’s place.

As tempting as it was, getting the whole ordeal over with quickly, that option was unacceptable.  No one else should die for Rainier’s sins. 

It was probably better that he wasn’t able to come with them, Avexis admitted, rather reluctantly, and only to herself.  He would have been openly shunned by half the group.  Avexis had to step in and arrange sleeping accommodations that wouldn’t result in fights – Bull with Sera, who was the most openly accepting of Rainier’s past life.  But that left Dorian in a huff – he insisted that he had started to depend on Bull’s warmth to keep him from freezing overnight.

Her friend still wasn’t willing to admit that the larger man meant more than a heat source to him. That bit of drama was okay – for now.  She wouldn’t press the issue until they had finished this mission.  She needed Dorian at his best.  If he had to confront his own emotions, he’d be a nervous wreck for weeks until Bull assured him the feelings were mutual.

Solas ended up bunking with Varric – who was very careful with his words indeed. To the point of silence.  Avexis gave the author an extra blanket – just in case they both needed another layer of distance and insulation from the chill that seemed to surround the mage.

Dorian was huddled into a tent with her and Cassandra – tight quarters, but warmish, at least. She and Cassandra were on the outside, after the first night where Dorian woke them all pre-dawn complaining that his bedroll was damp from melted ice and snow seeping up from under the tent.

The warm spot in the middle wasn’t worth the whining and bad attitude that leeched out of Dorian for the rest of that day. His foul temper wasn’t even mitigated by hot chocolat or the promise that they would have a roof over their heads if they could just take Suledin Keep.

Avexis curled her freezing hands around her own cup of chocolat, sipping slowly, and trying not to shiver, so as to set a good example. Taking the hill towards the Keep had proved more than challenging – the Red Templars literally entrenched halfway up, preventing them from reaching the Crossing and scouting the dragons without days’ worth of delay for the forward scouts.

It was going to take months – perhaps years – to fix that bridge. No wonder Cullen was so impatient with the historical society’s demands.  His letters had been simultaneously amusing and exasperating, as he tried to think of ways to complain without insulting her homeland. She considered telling him to go ahead and start insulting. Stupid historians could at least agree to temporary measures to get across – the dragons were a menace, even if they were too busy snarling at each other to notice her - much.

Cassandra settled down next to her with an impatient huff. “Haven’t you finished warming up yet?”

“Non,” Avexis laughed. “I feel like I’ll never be warm again.”

The woman sniffed. “I… had an idea.  About how to find out about the dragons across the gorge.”  She shifted uncomfortably.  “I was thinking… you could fly over.”

Avexis nearly dropped her chocolat. “Cassandra – are you suggesting I go alone?”

“Secretly, of course,” the warrior muttered. “Surely the dragons wouldn’t bother a small bird.  And you could see if it’s as they say – three dragons seem… extreme, even for the Frostbacks.”  She shifted on the frozen log again – and while the seat was cold and wet, Avexis doubted it was because of physical discomfort.  “I would not send you into danger, but… we need to know the immediate threat.”

“It’s a good idea,” Avexis admitted, under her breath. “Tomorrow, perhaps?  If we reach the Keep during tonight’s offensive?”

“And maybe,” drawled Dorian from right behind her, “you could take care of the wolves that insist on attacking us every time we leave camp?”

“Oi!” Sera piped up, “And maybe lure those snoufleurs to us, so we can get the hides! Good leather, that… and better eating!  I’m sick of stew made out of dried Druffalo bits and turnips…”

Avexis sighed, and drank the rest of her chocolat, already getting cold, in a single gulp. “Keep, first,” she told all of them.   “Then, the quarry.  The wolves will leave, if I tell them there’s more food down the mountains.  And then…” she frowned, “Hunt the snoufleurs the right way, Sera.  It’s not fair, otherwise.  They might look fat, but the meat is tough.  And then, I’ll scout the dragons.”  She stretched, arms over her head.  “Is it time?”

“Soon enough,” Cassandra admitted. “There’s no sign of that chevalier.  I suspect… I suspect he’s using us to defeat this Ismael.”

“Either way, the demon has to die, Cassandra,” Avexis sighed and dropped her arms. “Who is with me?”

 

<EotD>

 

Avexis tossed herself off the tower of the Keep before dawn – hoping that the dragons were diurnal and still sleeping. The winds from the gorge buffeted her and she had to fight to cross and not be blown back against the Keep’s walls.

Cassandra woke to watch her go, but the rest of her companions still slept – exhausted from the cold and the fight for the quarry, as the climax to weeks long confrontations with Red Templars. She shivered under her feathers, chilled through.

As a way to conserve energy, she wheeled off and up – and out of the wind currents gusting through the canyon. It would take longer to fly, not going direct, but she couldn’t fight that wind all day. Cassandra would panic if she wasn’t back by noon, at the latest.

She spotted the Pools of the Sun and wheeled closer, hoping that the sulfurous steam would warm her a bit, and give her a bit of a boost as she headed for the distant colosseum. The ambient heat loosened her frozen muscles and she arched back up, fighting the urge to dive into the water.

Perhaps she could indulge once the dragons had been relocated?

She had been fortunate that they were territorial enough that she had gone largely unnoticed – their constant hissing at each other’s proximity overwhelming her much smaller mental presence. But now that she was close, she felt their sleeping minds.

Did dragons dream? She landed on an arch of the arena and hopped forward.  This dragon was sleeping – along with several of its dragonlings.  Merde, it had babies.  That was… not good.  Much harder to relocate a mother and babies…  But at least she was prepared.  She noted its coloring to mention to Professeur Serault in her next letter, and unfurled her wings to backtrack over the Pools, dipping as low as she could manage to embrace more of the heat.  She arched up and landed on what remained of the shoulder of a very – artistic – statue.  She liked this statue – he was built like Cullen. 

The homesickness hit her like a spear to the gut, but she shook it off literally with a flurry of feathers, in favor of watching the dragon.

Not quite sleeping, but not fully awake. She’d need to hurry.  She dove down and towards the third, fighting the winds again as they tried to press her against the stones.  A particularly hard gust blew her off course and she landed in a pool of warm water.

She tried to hop out, feathers bedraggled and heavy with water, cawing softly in disgust and worry.

She felt a gentle touch to her mind, and she hopped away, spread her wings and tossed herself into flight, shivering with the bitter fingers of the ice trying to form on her wings. She landed inside the stairs - at least out of the wind, if not warm – and groomed herself hurriedly.  The dragon she’d just left was fully awake.  The last?  She closed her eyes and concentrated on location.

_Another?_ Disgust radiated from the angry voice.  _Leave. Leave._   She felt the roaring reverberate through her bones.

She couldn’t leave now. There… there was something else occupying the edges of her thoughts.  Something unformed but all too familiar…

She transformed, and used a little mana to dry out her clothing – steam billowing out from her armor as the leather dried, stiffer than she’d like, but nothing she could do about it right now. At least she would be warmer… she crept back up the stairs, thinking soothing thoughts.

The dragon was nowhere in sight when she transformed again and flung herself towards the last presence, scared, but needing to know.

A pair of jaws snapped shut, and Avexis wheeled in confusion, flying towards the nest it had made. She hadn’t meant to come so close…

_LEAVE!_ A massive eye appeared on her right, and she wheeled up and to the left, circling lower… and then she saw them. 

It was a nest in truth. There were dragon eggs partially submerged in the water – and they were _alive_.  She squawked, and dove away, just as the jaws closed on where she’d been just a moment before. _Merde_.  Avexis flew as fast as she could for the Keep’s tower – just visible through the trees.

The dragon followed. She could hear it behind her, so much faster… she wheeled rapidly, hoping that it was too large to maneuver quickly, dodging trees.

It flew overhead, looking. _You are not a bird,_ it hissed.  _Leave. Mine.  You won’t hurt them!_

Avexis’s thoughts whirred, on the edge of panic. She couldn’t make any ground, and she’d lost track of the Keep’s direction under the trees.  Besides, if the dragon attacked instead of chasing her… 

She took the risk and flitted upward, back into the light of the dawning sun.

The jaws snapped shut the next moment, and with a pinprick of pulling pain, Avexis fell.

She hit with a popping sound, feeling too large for her body for a brief moment. Something hard stopped her movement and she opened her eyes to see the dragon circling the Keep just above her.  She closed her eyes, hearing distant voices, and darkness descended.

 

<EotD>

Cullen approached Suledin Keep with Avexis’ reinforcements and Monsieur Jardin, eager and cautious. He knew as much as she could tell him, but – knowing there were three dragons just over the gorge and seeing two at once wheeling over the decimated village were quite different things.  There was no sign of the beleaguered residents, he was happy to note.  Hopefully they’d been relocated to the Keep.

Avexis hadn’t wanted him to come – citing the red lyrium as the reason - but the bridge demanded his attention, and Josephine requested a formal military escort for her Ambassador’s travel to the newly taken Keep. With the villagers still starving – all in all, it was time for the Commander to make an appearance, with food and blankets, engineers, sculptors, and builders.  This, quite possibly, was the most motley bunch of Inquisition personnel he’d ever traveled with.

He hadn’t resisted the necessity – despite the knowledge of the red lyrium. He longed to see Avexis – even if on a mere professional basis.  He knew she was busy, but…

Busy was an understatement. Cullen arrived to a Keep full of worry and trouble – a far cry from even the low key greeting he’d been hoping for.  “What happened?” he snapped out to a passing runner.

“Commander?!” He had to give the private credit, despite the odd location, he put a face to a name, and snapped out a crisp salute in an instant.  “Don’t you know, Ser?  The Inquisitor came back – as a bird!  Word is, she flew out over the gorge, to see to the dragons, since the bridge wasn’t going to be repaired any time soon.”  The man gulped, “Sorry, Ser.  But…”

“You’re right, man,” Cullen growled irritably. “But the Inquisitor?”

“One of the dragons came after her,” the man backed away. “She’s in the Keep, Ser.  With that strange boy and the Seeker.  They say… they say she’s hurt, real bad.”

Cullen turned to his people. “You heard the man,” he heard himself order.  “Prepare for an attacking dragon.  Now!”  They scattered, whether in panic or due to reliable training, he had no idea, and he marched up to the stairs of the Keep, determined to find a real explanation. 

He knew one thing – there would be no hiding her gift now. He cursed aloud, making a camp follower shy away from him in alarm, struggling to hold onto her basket of laundry, and started his search.

He found her laying in front of a fire, with a blotchy face and bare shoulder, looking away while Cole kept her attention with murmured words as Cassandra examined her closely. “Don’t you have a healer?” He demanded without thinking, only biting his tongue after the words were out.

Avexis lifted her eyes – almost black with pain and ringed like a raccoon – to his. They widened yet more.  “Cullen?”  Cassandra took advantage of the moment to set her arm with a swift jerk, and she cried out.  Cole caught her as Avexis fell back against the pillow with a moan.  “You weren't supposed to…”

“Formal escort for the Ambassador, among other things,” he bit off, and knelt. “What did you do?”

“Broken arm,” Cassandra scolded. “She went too close, and then, fool that she is – transformed into a person, thinking she could sneak in to look at the eggs.”

“Eggs?” Cullen choked.  “The dragons have eggs?”

“The hot springs,” Avexis hissed, trying to sit up. “Help me, Cullen.”  He lifted her, and propped her with his arm.  “They’re using it as an… un incubateur, I think?  Heat must help the eggs develop in the winter.”  She shook too hard for the cup Cassandra handed her, and Cullen took it instead, and helped her sip, as Cole fetched a blanket to wrap around her.  “I was a raven most of the time, Cassandra.”

“Not long enough,” The Seeker bit out fiercely.

“How did you break your arm?” Cullen set the glass down carefully on the stone floor, and shifted closer.

Avexis winced. “I… wasn’t fast enough.  It chased me while I was a bird.  I fell… and when I tried to land, I miscalculated and hit the ground.  The shock made me transform.  I fractured…”

“It’s broken, not fractured.”

“Shh, Cassandra.”

“I will not shush. You were careless – and overly curious. It – it could have killed you!”

Cullen’s hands tightened. “Ladybird…”

“I won’t do it again.”

Cassandra scoffed, “Not until you heal, at least.”

“Why don’t you have a healer?”

Avexis frowned, “We never travel with a healer, Cullen. The healers are for the troops.  So is the surgeon.  I thought you three trusted me to know what to do – not to get hurt.”  Cassandra worked quickly, binding the bones straight with what looked like rusty sword blades and tightly wrapped bandages.  It stayed at a strange angle afterward, but overall, it was an excellent field dressing.  “I’ve been lucky so far, haven’t I?”

“It will do, until we have a professional see to it,” Cassandra bit off.

Cullen worked his mouth helplessly. “I see,” he managed at last, remembering that order, issued clear back at Haven.  The Herald had first access to healing potions and so on, and their limited healers stayed with the troops.  “If I’d known what you had planned, I would have brought Bethany,” he finished lamely.  “It’ll take a week to get her here.”

Avexis scoffed, “I have a high pain tolerance. I can get home fine.  Now that we know about the dragons, I can reach Skyhold.”  She reached across to her pack, and tried to drag it closer.  “Cullen… help?” She gave up trying to open it one handed.

Cullen paled further. “You broke the left arm.  What about the mark?  Tell me you’ve at least sealed the rifts already.”

“It’s always about the mark, with you,” Avexis teased. “Open the bag, Cullen.  You need to see what I have in here.”

Cullen sighed and worked the laces on the bag loose, while Cassandra propped herself against the fireplace’s mantel with her ankles crossed and eyes narrowed. “You did seal the rifts in the area before you went looking for dragons?”

“Of course, I seal the rifts first, always,” Avexis sniffed. “Don’t be foolish, Commander.  I couldn’t do the rest of my job if we’re all hounded by demons constantly.  The letters,” she urged, shifting herself forward in excitement.  “Look at the letters.”

Cullen took out a tidy bundle and cursed as he flipped through them. “It’s Samson,” he whispered.  “And Maddox?” He closed his eyes, feeling his lunch flip in his stomach.  “No.”  He opened his eyes, determined.  “You found him.”

“The Temple of Dumat,” Avexis grinned. “According to my calculations, and the many scouts we had tracking their mail deliveries.  Confirmation came through late yesterday.  Samson is in the palm of our hand, Commander.  Shall we close the fist?”

Cullen laughed, “You won’t be closing your fist for weeks. You need a plaster on that arm, love.”  He leaned forward and kissed her head.  “Reckless,” he whispered, forgetting Cassandra was in the room until he heard her excited breathing.

Avexis laughed and pulled back. “There’s more, Commander.  The Red Templars were controlled by a demon – a demon that we defeated.”  Cassandra cleared her throat.  “That Cassandra defeated,” Avexis corrected.  “Though I believe Bull got the last blow in, I can’t be sure.  Most of us spent that battle largely… unconscious.”

Cullen tightened his hand on the letters. “Avexis, love…”

“It’s better to get all the bad news out quickly,” she protested. “I’m fine.  Bull is fine,” She rolled her eyes, “It’s not like I could send Solas, or Dorian, or Vivienne.  They can all be possessed.”

“That’s no reason to risk…”

“It’s exactly a reason to risk herself,” Cassandra corrected. “I am unable to be possessed, so I was a logical choice.  Varric is a dwarf, so demons do not trouble him.  Bull is never tempted – he gives into everything in his daily life, so there’s nothing forbidden.  Though even he hesitated when the demon…”

“Choice. Spirit,” Avexis corrected with a giggle.

“Demon,” Cassandra argued, eyebrows tense, before releasing, “Oh. You are… teasing me.”  She scowled.  “Stop.”  She sighed, and continued, “When the demon offered a deal to continue its work here.”

“Be fair, Cassandra,” Avexis teased. “You were tempted by the virgins.”

Cassandra snorted, “I do not want virgins.  I want one man who knows what the fuck he’s doing.”

“Cassandra… The pun…” Avexis sniggered while Cassandra scowled her disapproval, “I had similar thoughts. Not much of a choice, was there?  What would a mage do with that kind of money?  And power?”  She shrugged, and winced.  “I have too much power already.”  She paled, and tried to lay back.  “Starting to hurt.”

“What can I do?”

Cassandra rolled her eyes, and handed over a potion. “Assuming you brought supplies, we can make more potions.  Make her drink this.”  Cullen eyed Avexis, who looked stubborn.  “Drink it.”

“It tastes like dirt,” Avexis pouted, but drank, with shaky hands, the bottle rattling against her teeth.

Despite her protests, he would send for Bethany – if nothing else, they’d meet the healer coming. He’d feel a lot better about her arm once…

“Quit fussing, Cullen. I can hear you thinking about healers and calculating how long until they can arrive.”  She frowned at him.  “I’ll be fine. It was bad enough with just Cassandra. Both of you fussing is going to drive me mad.”

“I don’t fuss. I am also not doubting the good Seeker’s field dressing…” he began.

“I learned everything I know from Galyan,” Cassandra slammed another potion down next to Avexis. “And Commander, you’re coming with me, before you can drive Avexis insane with your…”

“I don’t want to leave…”

“Nonsense. You are here to discuss bridges, and coordinate relief.  That the… your… that Avexis is injured, is just a coincidence.”  Cassandra, unaccountably, flushed.  “She needs to rest in any case.  Cole will watch her, and get anything she needs.  And tomorrow, she’ll be able to rise and move around, if she’s not too tired.”

Cullen frowned, “Can’t you…”

“No. I refuse to deal with that pretentious gang masquerading as an historical society for one more instant.  Do you know they spent three days debating whether it was immoral for the statues of the former Empress’ lover to stay nude?!”

“I… see,” Cullen answered weakly.

“No, you can’t possibly understand. You’re Fereldan.  You are going to march in there, tell them that the Inquisition will build their damn bridge, but that the statues will stay nude, thank you very much because damn it, there is no time to arrange for stone drapery and fig leaves!” Cassandra stomped out.

“I should go,” Cullen told Avexis wryly.

“That’s supposed to be my line,” Avexis quipped as he kissed the top of her head. “Have fun.  Remember – if the historical thugs try to intimidate you, tell them that you thought Florian I was a decent emperor.  They’ll be so stunned that you’re educated that they’ll forget to squeeze your bottom.”  She winked, “I won’t, though.  Come back, soon?”

“Of course.”


	56. Revenge and Redemption

“You should take Bull.” Cullen let himself wrap his arm around her side, careful to allow for her still tender arm.  They were alone in the War Room – a fairly rare occurrence in itself – but necessary, as they measured long distances on the largest map the Inquisition owned.

He hated sending her so far away. To Tevinter – or nearly so, depending where the borders fell after Josie finished negotiating the Nevarran/Tevinter peace accord.  It wasn’t safe to be an elf in Tevinter, or even Northern Nevarra – even a mage elf.  Perhaps especially a mage elf – Dorian had told him horrible stories, about elves with magic ability, and what their masters would do... it didn’t matter how strong you were, if others had more power, and no conscience holding them back.  Fenris was proof of that.

But Avexis was strong. She’d been right about her pain tolerance.  She’d even rode her own damn unicorn-thing, directing the reins one handed, after Bethany had applied a hard plaster.  She’d barely needed assistance by the time they’d returned to Skyhold – allowing him to help her down only because, as she’d confessed with a whisper, she liked it.  Quietly, he’d vowed then and there to always be present, whenever possible, to help her off her horse.

And she’d thrown herself into planning the assault on the Temple of Dumat the very next day. As if she didn’t have any trouble wielding her staff with a bum arm in the way.

When he’d mentioned his worry, she’d laughed. “I don’t have to wield the staff unless I need to block, Cullen.  It’s a focus.  I don’t need a staff at all, for that matter.  Especially for lightning spells.  Most of the time, it’s just a polearm with a pretty crystal.”  She’d flicked it dismissively.  “Besides, it will take nearly three weeks to get there.  I can heal while we travel.  Bethany says the plaster can come off in a week.  We’ll leave then.”

How one person could be so infuriating and yet so impossibly dear to him made him dizzy.

“Non, I can’t ask him to go so close to the Tevinter border. Bull has… bad memories of his time there.  They yoked him to a cart – can you imagine?”  She tapped her lips with the quill, lines of worry creasing her forehead. “Dorian is the smart choice.  He has more knowledge of the area than any other mage in the Inquisition.”  She wrote down the name.

He ran his eyes down her absurdly short list of supplies and companions and frowned at her answer. “Cassandra, then.”

Avexis made a face, “So that I can listen to her grouse about Nevarra for weeks on end? Cullen…”

“You have to take a warrior, you’re facing Templars at the end of the journey. And you haven’t sentenced Rainier yet.  You’ve heard Josie’s impatient noises.”

Avexis poked the quill viciously though the parchment. “I haven’t decided what to do.”

“You can’t just leave him incarcerated.”

“He hurt my feelings when I went to visit him in the cells. He said that now everyone would know - as if it were a foregone conclusion – that the Inquisition is corrupt.  I am not corrupt!” 

Cullen hummed noncommittally. Avexis scowled.

“I’m not corrupt.”

“I didn’t say you were. But you did have a war criminal released by appealing to Empress Celene.”

“As if we didn’t restore her throne and reunite her with her love.”

“And you told me you were going to pardon him. Even after everything he did.”

“Well, I can’t put him to death! He’s blocked arrows for me. What else can I do with him?”  She paused, “I’m asking.  I’ll have the guards bring him to the Hall this afternoon if you can think of something.  I’d far rather have this taken care of before I leave for at least two months.”

“I can’t say,” Cullen admitted.

“Why not?”

“Because then you would be corrupt. Taking your Commander’s advice on an unrelated criminal case?” Cullen laughed and kissed her, forgetting where they were, and the necessary to maintain professionality for just a moment.  “Sorry, Ladybird, you’ve got to figure this one out on your own.  I’m far too biased.”

“And I’m not?” Avexis sighed, and ran her fingers through the top of her hair.  “Cullen… he’s a good man.  I don’t know what happened, before.  Why he was so tempted by the money.  He’s never spent a cent of his Inquisition earnings – I had Leliana check – on anything more than the occasional ale on the road.  He has thousands of silver saved up for no reason or purpose we can determine.”

“People change,” Cullen murmured, looking unsure.

“Can I demand he pay back the money he took for the murders to the heirs?” Avexis wrinkled her nose, “I’ll ask Josie if there are any… but that doesn’t excuse the way he stole a man’s death – his words, not mine – to live in hiding…” She shook her head. “We need to plan this trip to Dumat, Cullen, not worry over Rainier.  I can’t afford to divide my focus right now.  In the grand scheme of things, Samson is more important.  Thom is safe enough here – Sera sees him daily and sneaks him cookies. I’m not going to rush my decision.  I need to consider everything.”

Cullen fell silent while she scribbled.

“We’ll take Cassandra anyway,” she concluded. “I’ll tease her within an inch of her life about being a princess if she gives us too much shit.”

Cullen took a breath, “Take me.” 

Avexis dropped the quill, and a random dotting of spatters covered the parchment. “Quelle? Répète?”

“You heard me. Take me.”  He laughed, “I’m good with a shield, I take Samson’s betrayal personally, and…” he touched her hand, “I’ll feel better about… things, if I’m with you.”

“I don’t know, Cullen.” Avexis mused. “We’ve never really fought together.”

“I’m adaptable. And I want to be there when you apprehend him.”

“Why is this so personal?” Avexis ignored her ink-stained fingers to twine her hand with his.

“We roomed together for a time, in Kirkwall. He was… kind to me, at a time when things were at their most difficult.  He was kind to a lot of people.  I want to understand why – how – this happened, when he used to be different.”

“How was he kind?” Avexis sounded skeptical, and she released his hand to lift and wipe her pen dry, leaving black smears on the cloth from her fingers.  “I’ve met a lot of Templars, Cullen, and only a handful would ever have been considered ‘kind’.  Are you sure you aren’t projecting your own personality traits onto him?”

Cullen blinked, and barked a laugh. “Love, no one who knew me in Kirkwall would ever call me ‘kind’.  He sorted through the quarry letters – the lot of them stacked neatly on the corner of the War Table.  “This is how he was kind.”  He shoved the letter over.  “Maddox.”

“You were shaken by that name back in L’Emprise, oui? Who is Maddox?”

“He was a mage in the Kirkwall Circle. Samson was expelled from the Order for delivering love letters to Maddox’s sweetheart.”

“Sacre Coeur de l’Andraste,” Avexis murmured, “For such a little thing?”

“Meredith didn’t want her mages to have… outside distractions. Or her Templars to have pity on our… charges.”  He was beginning to hate that word.  “Mages weren’t to be pitied, they were to be feared.”

Avexis shivered. “What happened to…”

Cullen stared at the letter, “Meredith ordered him made Tranquil. And as you can see – Samson kept him with him, through the Chantry explosion, through the Conclave, through everything.  He felt… responsible, even after the Champion managed to have Samson readmitted to the Order.  Samson was kind to Maddox, and to me, and this the proof.”  Cullen rubbed his hand over his eyes.  “It should have been me that thought of the Tranquil from the Circle with nowhere else to go.  But in the messy aftermath, in my disorientation after breaking Meredith’s hold, I… I never thought…”

“To look for the Tranquil,” Avexis hunched over the page, eyes dark with understanding. “All right, Cullen.  You can come along.  But I want to know everything about this ‘Maddox’ that you can remember.  Everything.”

Cullen managed a weak smile, “I can do that. It starts with lyrium.” 

“A runemaker, then?”

“The most talented I’ve seen, short of Dagna. I’ve heard tales of the Wonders of Thedas shop in Denerim – but I’m telling you now that I saw Maddox perform minor miracles with the most basic of supplies.  With a brazier and his tools – he was a master at work.”

“Samson was probably using him - even back in Kirkwall – a Tranquil runemaker has access to the lyrium stores,” Avexis whispered, eyes growing pained. “But Maddox won’t see it like that.”  She pushed back from the table.

“He won’t?”

“Non, Cullen. Tranquil like to be useful.  They don’t care if a person’s goals are worthy, or self-serving.  They just want to serve a purpose – they have unswerving loyalty to the man or woman that gives them that purpose – a place to exist.  Tranquility feels like a dream – only less real.  You go through the motions of life, and anyone that makes you feel like you still fit in the waking world helps.  I felt like that towards Galyan, not long ago.  He cared for me out of love - but Samson…”

“Merde,” Cullen murmured. “Maddox has been friends with Samson for nigh on a decade.”

“Exactement,” Avexis agreed. “Maddox will do anything in his power to prevent us finding Samson.”  Her eyes flashed.  “We need to leave immediately, Cullen – or we’ll lose our chance completely.  We’ll plan on the way.  Send a runner to Sera, Dorian, and Cassandra.  Tell them to meet us at the front gates.  We’re heading for Jader, and then Nevarra, on the fastest ship we can find on short notice – we’ll have the Inquisition outposts in Jader spot us supplies, and make the arrangements.  We’ve got to take him unawares.”

“Samson?”

“Non, my love,” she touched Cullen’s face gently. “Maddox is the one we need to worry about.  He’s the cleverness, the mind behind it all.  Without Maddox, Samson is nothing but a puppet on lyrium’s string.”

“Avexis… I can’t kill Maddox. He hasn’t earned that.”

She closed her eyes, “I’m planning on saving him, but killing him isn’t off the table.”

 

_< EotD>_

 

Cassandra’s disgusted noise echoed across the deserted Plains of Silence. “Another case of too much quiet.”

“That’s why they’re the Plains of Silence, right?” but Sera fidgeted on her horse. “Want me to go ahead, Quizzie?”

Avexis shook her head, and dismounted, “Non, Sera, I’ll go.” 

“Your arm…”

“Is fine, Commander. It has been for weeks.”

“This is a Red Templar stronghold, Inquisitor. I must formally protest…”  Avexis stopped his words with a look as she handed him her reins. 

“Your protest is noted.” She morphed, and took wing without another word and flew for the fortress, a black dot against pale stone that winked out of sight all too soon.

A few minutes later there was an explosion, and Cullen kicked his Forder into a gallop.

The small party sprinted for the gates, and Sera swung down to fiddle with the lock, cursing at the long minute it took to pick. “Shite,” she swung it open, and Cullen raced through before it was wide enough, banging his shoulder on the cast iron as he ran.

The Temple’s courtyard was a fiery mess and Avexis…

Avexis was standing on the steps, hair rising around her, arms sparking and opponents smoking in a way that suggested she was the one responsible for the explosion. “Inquisitor!” He called out, and saw her expand, only to fall forward onto all fours, snarling at two Templar Behemoths while she shook out sudden fur.  “Maker preserve me,” he prayed, more alarmed than he wanted to admit, and ran.  A barrier settled around him and Avexis in the next moment, Dorian, at least, fully aware of the danger.

Behind him, he heard Sera’s bow releasing, the deceivingly soothing thud of her arrows meeting their targets, the rhythm interspersed with the ring of Cassandra’s shield blocking what used to be the Templar archers slung red lyrium projectiles. He could feel the sickening lure of the stuff, hot and heavy.  He broke into a sweat and charged.

He focused on Avexis, burly and furry and… biting? “DON’T!”  She closed her mouth, looking as sheepish as a Great Bear could look.  He drew alongside, and sliced through the Behemoth’s maul-arm.  “Don’t bite it,” he ordered.  “Think!”

Avexis-the-bear huffed at him, and rose up on her rear legs, just to land on the Behemoth, knocking it over. Cullen sliced what remained of the Templar’s throat, and Avexis turned to meet the second Behemoth, going hazy around the edges as she shrank back into herself, and then instantly Fadestepped to flank the creature.

Cullen roared to grab its attention, and blocked his wide swing as Avexis marked it. “Get to Maddox!”  She yelled.  “Samson’s not here – he left them here to delay us – and maybe get lucky.  Maddox will be!  You’ve got to get to him!  Go!”  Her body glowed.  “Go now!  I’m going to release this, and I’m going to catch you, otherwise!” 

Cullen ran, shoving over the doors. A second later there was a crack of electricity, and he felt rather than heard the Behemoth fall in a mighty thud that shook the stones of the Temple walls.

There was silence for a moment, as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the inner Temple – flickering light and… he coughed. Smoky.  “Merde,” he whispered, and pulled his collar to cover his mouth.  Maddox.  He had to find…

Avexis was at his side, casting a barrier around him that strangely helped purify the air – at least enough to let him breathe without coughing. “Allons-y,” she whispered, and Fadestepped away.

They fought for what seemed like forever, through the damage. He was dimly aware of Dorian’s curses as he put out fires with summoned ice.  The others had caught up, then.  He dispatched his current opponent, and squinted, trying to see…

“I found him,” Avexis called out over the still snapping fires. “Commander!  Over here!”

He darted through another set of doors, and found the Inquisitor, digging through her workbag with a scarily determined look on her face.

“What did you take?! Madcap Essence?”

Maddox answered, eerily calm. “Yes.”

“Cassandra, find his brazier,” Avexis ordered, pulling out a small bag. “It’ll be with his work tools.  Get me charcoal.”  The Seeker obeyed, glancing around wildly.  “Out the doors!” She directed.  “SERA!  I need your mortar and pestle!”  The archer sniffed, and unslung her own pack.  “Rashvine nettle,” Avexis set the packet aside.  “Dragonthorn,” she gasped with relief.  “Still enough.”  She wiped the back of her hand against her eyes and left a smudge of ash on one cheek.

“You’re trying to save…” Cullen managed.

“Not trying, I’m going to save him,” she bit off. “Spindleweed potion,” she whispered, face white, even in the orange light of the flames.  Sera handed her the mortar and she started crushing, breaking them up into tiny bits, the potion splashing around the edges of the small bowl.  She poured it down his throat and pinched his nose until he swallowed, watching him with burning eyes.  “Live, Maddox.”

“I…” the man coughed, and she flipped him forward to allow him to vomit, gagging next to him in sympathy. Sera backed up a bit.  “I will not tell you anything,” the Tranquil, older, but the same man Cullen remembered, told her bluntly.

“You don’t have to, because I’m not going to ask you anything.” Avexis lifted her chin, somehow looking regal despite sitting next to a puddle of disgusting substances.  “I’m not interested in what you know.”

Cassandra came back with a handful of charred remnants, thrusting them into her hands. Avexis, lips pressed into a thin line in deep thought, broke them off and placed them in the man’s mouth.  “Chew, Maddox,” she ordered, eyes narrowed.

The man shook his head, “I failed. I failed to take into account that you were…”

“I understand loyalty,” she bit off. “However misplaced.  I was Tranquil.  Just… luckier in those that made me useful.”  

“I had heard that.” Maddox stared at her unblinking.  “Why are you saving me, if you know I’ll just try this again?”

“You won’t try this again. We both know that,” Avexis’ voice shook.  “You’re Tranquil, not stupid.  Logically, you know we’ll have you watched.  You won’t be allowed near our stores.  We don’t need you, we want you.  We want to help you.”  She wiped away another batch of tears.  “I know how to cure Tranquility, Maddox.”

Cassandra’s quick intake of breath, “Inquisitor, you shouldn’t…”

“He knows already,” Avexis’ eyes never left the Tranquil. “Nothing happens in Circles that Tranquil don’t know about. He just doesn’t have the emotions to deal with the knowledge.  Cullen – his sweetheart – did she survive the Chantry explosion?”

“I can write to Aveline…”

“Avexis,” Cassandra hissed, “You would restore…”

“More than that,” Avexis pushed. “I am going to make sure Maddox is cured, and that Samson finds out that we cured him. If we can find his sweetheart, I’m going to try to reunite them.”  Her hands shook as they grabbed her bag again.  “Dorian, I hate to ask, but could you put out the rest of the fires?  Maddox shouldn’t be moved, and he’s going to need a tincture of Spindleweed, Royal Elfroot, and Prophet’s Laurel in honey to help the lesions in his throat from the Madcap Essence in a few hours – after he finishes purging it.  All this smoke is just going to make the irritation from the acid worse.”

“I will live,” Maddox informed her passively.

“Good.” Avexis hid her face in her hands.  “Good.”


	57. Cabbages and Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW towards the end. Should be easy enough to skip the smut.

Cullen approached her that evening where she sat next to the now sleeping Maddox – the man stretched out on Samson’s bed, as comfortable as she could make him. “You should sleep,” he whispered.

“I can’t. I’m no healer,” her voice shook.  “Galyan… he had me keep track of his stock…”

“You’ve done wonders,” he knelt down on one knee next to her. “You can’t keep him alive by staring at him, love.”

“So much gone wrong,” Avexis nearly laughed. “Kirkwall was worse than anyone realized, wasn’t it?  Blood mages, abuse of Tranquil, red lyrium, corrupt Templars-” she turned and embraced him, rocking him backwards slightly.  “Cullen, I almost failed.  A few minutes later and he’d be dead.”

“You made it,” Cullen wrapped his arms around her. “You’re going to right this wrong, too.  Like so many others, Ladybird.  We’ll get Maddox back.”

“Should I?” Her voice came out muffled against his chest.  “He doesn’t want it.”

“Did you, when you were Tranquil?”

“Non,” she whispered, and pulled back. Her face was still white with ash and streaked with charcoal.  “No, I didn’t.  I was… dully content, with purpose.  But this… this is better, even though it hurts to live.”  She gasped, and Cullen picked up her hands.  “I have so much more, now.”

“Cold,” he frowned. “Avexis… are you -” he noticed her shaking.  “Love, you’re shivering.  What’s-”

“That was the first time I became a bear,” she laughed, slightly hysterical. “If I was a healer, I wouldn’t have been able to cure Maddox.  My mana was gone, after the lightning.  Just before he fell, that last Templar Silenced me…”

Cullen growled, “Why didn’t you say…” He stripped himself out of his cloak and wrapped it around her. “Ladybird, you have to take care of yourself.  Silence sends mages into shock…”

“Maddox was more important,” she whispered. “We don’t need his information, but we have to save him.  Have to.”

“Oi! Lovebirds!” Sera knocked on the open door of the chamber.  “Here.  Found these, didn’t I?  On that poor bastard’s worktable.”  The archer sniffed.  “Look fancy.  Think that whats-her-name back in the Undercroft…”

“Her name is Dagna, Sera,” Avexis scolded.

“I know. Just… we haven’t been introduced, right?” Sera shifted, “Been meaning to ask you ‘bout that.  But still – looks like her thing, right?”

Cullen reached out a hand towards the tools. “Those…” he smiled.  “Yes, Sera.”  He rose and hugged the elf tight.  “You’re a genius.  I’ll introduce you myself to Dagna.”

“Stop that,” Sera shoved him away, stronger than she looked. “No call for hugging,” she shuddered and nodded at Avexis.  “Hug her, iffen you need one so bad.  She looks like she could use one.”

 

<EotD>

 

The trip to Skyhold was uneventful, Maddox uninterested in resisting his imprisonment further, as Avexis had predicted. But the quiet in the camp in the evening, as the knowledge of their failure at finding Samson sunk in, now that they were on their way home, oppressed all of them. To travel all that way, only to fail…

Cullen was sullen, depressed, staring at Maddox with a line between his eyes that seemed to deepen every day. He barely spoke as they traveled, and Avexis finally approached him.  “Do you want to talk?”

“Not really.” He stared at the ground in front of him.

“There was nothing you could have done.”

“I could have appealed to Mother Elthina.”

Avexis scoffed, “From what I’ve heard of the Revered Mother, she would have done nothing.”

“She might have, if a Templar had approached her with evidence.” Avexis squeezed his knee.  “She might have prevented the Rite being used on a harrowed mage.”  He rubbed his tired eyes with a hand.  “I’m so sorry – and that’s just as useless as this trip turned out to be.”

“It wasn’t useless. We saved a life.”  Cullen nodded, and coughed, as a single dustcloud swirled and enveloped them both.  “If you are sorry, have you told Maddox?”  Cullen finally looked up.

“Would it matter?”

“I don’t know. It’s not as if people regularly apologize to the Tranquil.  Maddox would know if it mattered to him."

Cullen stared at the Tranquil with hollow eyes, stood, and made his way over to the man, frowning. “Maddox… I want you to know I regret…”

“You were not in any position to prevent the Rite, Commander. The fault does not fall to you.  Samson told me you protested.  And I am better as I am.”

“No,” Cullen grabbed the man’s shoulder, shaking him slightly. “No, you’re not.  You were better before.”

“You are entitled to your opinion, Commander.”

Cullen closed his eyes and turned away. “Still, I beg your forgiveness.  I should have done more.”

“There is nothing to forgive.”

Cullen left their camp, and Avexis followed, glancing at Cassandra to watch Maddox. “Cullen,” she scrambled over a few rocks to reach him, where he’d propped himself up to see the stars.

“The person I was back then - I might not have cared for you,” his voice cracked. “The thought terrifies me.”

“Cullen…”

“I was a different person. Cold, vengeful, afraid…”  He turned, and reached out, but his hand fell away.  “I shouldn’t even touch you.  I disgust myself.”  His nose wrinkled, and he turned.

“Cullen, I like who you are now.” Avexis took his hand in hers, and when he didn’t squeeze back, hugged him, tight around the middle.

“How can you say that? How?  After everything you’ve been through, because of people like me?  You see the consequences of my inaction – of how I wasn’t enough to save or fix anything-”

“I love you. And you’re nothing like Pierre – or any of the others.  You didn’t act on your impulse in Kinloch.  You never abused a mage.”

“That was before…”

“Before your trauma. And in Kirkwall, you saw the imbalance of power, and refused to make it worse. That’s far more than a great many did, and then you chose to depose the Knight-Commander.  You have to stop abusing yourself for these things,” Avexis said firmly, and took both his hands, limp at his sides, and wrapped them around her.  “I want you to touch me, Cullen.  I don’t want anyone but you to touch me, for the rest of my life, however long we have.”  She raised up on her toes, stroking his jaw with her hand, and kissed him, gently. 

He made a strangled noise, and clutched at her, deepening the kiss, drawing her against him, rough in his urgency, burying himself in her neck. “Ladybird, I…”

“Shh,” she whispered, and parted his coat. “The others will hear you.”  She moved her mouth to his throat, and her hands to his breeches, working on his laces.

“Here?”

“Yes. Now.  Let me show you.”

His hands stilled hers. “Wait.  Later.  We can be quiet, in the tent.  I don’t…” his breath rasped in her ear.  “I do.  Want that.  You.  But later, when I’m under control.  Please.  For now, just – hold me.  Please.”

She drew her hands back, and wrapped them around his neck. “Of course, Cullen.  Anything.”  He bent to kiss her again.  “I’ll wait,” she panted, and threw herself against him, clutching the hair at the base of his skull, making him chuckle with the contradiction.

“You’re making me not want to wait.”

“Not such a bad thing, non?”

“Demon.”

“Not a demon.” She tutted, “How soon you forget.”

The others pretended not to notice them slipping back into camp, and setting into their tent a little earlier than usual. Avexis picked up where she left off, stripping his coat off his shoulders, and dropping her fingers to his breeches.  She caught his eye, waiting for his nod, before making short work of them, and helping him wiggle them down.  He struggled out of his shirt, and she ran her fingers down his chest.

Shaking hands raised to stop hers, and then to help her out of her own coat and trousers. He lifted the shirt over her head, and bent to kiss her neck, suckling hard to make her gasp.  “Hush,” he soothed.  “Or you’ll give Cassandra the thrill of her life.”

Her low laugh didn’t bode well for silence, but somehow, it was irrelevant. He rolled them both over, and covered her, fingers twisted and hands pinned above her head as he kissed her neck and breasts until she squirmed, breath catching hard as her chest heaved.  “Cullen…”

“Ladybird.” He moved against her.  “Let me…”  He captured her mouth, and she rose against him, humming.  His spare hand ran down her side, a tickling brush of sensation, and gathered her leg around his waist, trapping him against her while he moved his hand to stroke her between her legs.  “Can I…”

“Oui,” and he slipped in, rocking gently.

He bent his head to her shoulder, rasping breath tickling her ear. “Love,” he breathed.  “I don’t deserve…”

“Who does?” She whispered back. “It doesn’t matter.”  Two hot drops fell on her bare shoulder.  “Ne pleure pas.  Je t’aime.  You love me.  We have each other.”

His hips snapped against hers more quickly, and she cried out into the darkness.   He failed to hush her.   She locked her legs around his waist, and squeezed, arching her back.  Together, they tumbled and fell, clinging to the other like a lifeline.

He kissed her neck again, found her mouth, and rolled them sideways, stroking her hip, kissing her like he couldn’t stop, tears falling as he wept for who he’d been, and who he’d left behind, until he fell asleep to the sound of her soft comforting words.

 

<EotD>

 

The morning dawned, and Sera slapped the side of their tent. “Oi!  Lovebirds!  Rise and Shine!  You left Cass to keep guard on the creepy one half the night while you two got it on, and she’s got a case of the grumps.  You owe her coffee, Quiz!”

Avexis laughed, and kissed Cullen, rolling on top of him. “Cullen,” she purred.  “Reveillez-vous.”

“Non,” he whispered, laughter in his voice as he used the Orlesian. “I don’t want to face the Seeker.”  He buried his face in her throat.  “She’s going to scold me.  Or blush.  Or both.  And I don’t want to deal with either.”

“I’ll take care of Cassandra,” Avexis stroked his ear, and then cupped it, coming in for a kiss. “I know how she takes her coffee.  You go get cleaned up, and by the time you get back it will be fine.”

Cullen mock-scowled, “You’ve messed up my hair, haven’t you?”

“C’est beau, mon petit-chou,” she whispered, and kissed him again. “Just not the way you like it.”  She slapped his hip and rolled away.  “Come on, if we get started, and eat on the road, we might make port by sundown.  I want out of Nevarra – and that possibility will help cheer up Cassandra, too.”  She smirked, “Besides, the sooner you are away, the sooner I can placate her with the details. She likes that kind of thing.”

“Don’t you dare,” Cullen warned, but Avexis only winked, and pulled on her clothes. 

“Better get up and stop me then!”

Cullen grabbed her hand at the last minute.  "Avexis, what does 'petit chou' mean?"

"Ah, my 'little cabbage'." Avexis flushed.

"First artichokes and now cabbages?"  Cullen shook his head, "What is Orlais' obsession with vegetables?"

"At least we don't call our loved ones 'pup'," Avexis smirked, and kissed his head.


	58. Judgements and Bashing Heads

Skyhold's Great Hall was silent, as Avexis sat upon her despised throne.  Thom Rainier knelt before her, in shackles. “Release him,” Avexis told his guards quietly.  “He won’t hurt me.”  She noted Cullen’s hands moving to the hilt of his sword before she refocused on her friend.  “I apologize for the wait, Rainier.  I was unsure what to do with you.  Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

“I do not, Your Worship. I’m guilty of everything they’ve accused me of.  I want to pay the price.”  He wouldn't look up at her, focusing on his feet.

Avexis pushed out. “I thought about seeing if the Wardens would take you – you were recruited, after all, once upon a time, and you seem to desire service for a greater cause, but… that doesn’t help with the immediate issues.  The Inquisition still needs you.  And I dislike the idea of you being subject to Corypheus’ false Calling.  But I can’t just pardon you – the Inquisition is not as corrupt as you seem to think.  But…I believe I’ve found the answer.”

“The things I’ve done are too serious to be pardoned, milady.”

“We will have to agree to disagree,” Avexis managed with difficulty. “But that’s the reason you will earn your pardon, Thom Rainier.”

Thom looked confused. “Milady?”

“You will earn your pardon, with service to the Inquisition, and through the only fair trial I could think of.” Avexis stood, “I ask for any of those that believe Thom Rainier’s betrayals to be insurmountable to step forward at this time.”

There was silence in the Great Hall. Slowly, a handful of people stepped forward, chevaliers, mostly, but the knights stepped aside when Cassandra, eyes gleaming with calculation, made her way forward.  Avexis caught Cullen’s eyes, begging, and saw him close his, and then approach as well, head bowed as if in regret.

“Thom Rainier,” Avexis’ throat went thick, and she cleared it, “You’ll earn your pardon today **i** n a trial by combat.”  She stepped down from the dais, and Josephine handed her her staff.  “I will fight at your side.”

“Milady, I’m not worth…”

“That is my sentence,” she stated clearly. “Disarm or fall in battle.  But if you decide not to fight, you will leave me vulnerable.”  Her eyes twinkled at him briefly.  “I’d really rather you fought.”  She observed the large group of seven people.  “I don’t suppose the rest of you would cede in favor of the Commander and the Seeker, would you?”

One by one they nodded. “Oh, good,” Avexis grinned, “I think our chances are much better two against two, don’t you, Thom?  I’ve never seen the Grand Melee, but as you describe it, I think there are more people ganging up on each other, not just two against many.”  She began to march out of the hall, the crowds parting before her.  “Someone get the man a sword!”  She announced at the top of her lungs, “A real one.  We’re not training.”  She passed Bull, and stopped for a moment, “Bull – would you mind being the impartial judge?”

“Sure, Boss,” Bull sounded uncertain.

“Tres bien. Merci.”

In the training ring, Sera handed Thom his breastplate, and then slapped Avexis’ shoulder. “Luck, Quizzie.  You got this.”  She winked.

“No tricks, Sera,” Avexis ordered.

“Hands off, I swear,” the woman shifted. “Real talk, though – thanks for this.  He’ll do better, thinking he earned it, and after taking a beating.  Men, eh?  Hafta have their heads bashed before sense starts trickling in.”

Avexis pressed her lips together, “The beating is what I’m worried about. You don’t think he’ll…”

But Bull was raising his voice, “Incapacitation or disarming only! Lose your weapon or lose the ability to wield the weapon and you’re out.”

Thom glowered at her. Avexis swallowed, and met his eye, dead on. “You did this on purpose.”

“Of course I did,” Avexis smiled, but grimly. “I’ve missed having you fight at my side, Thom.  I can call you Thom, yes?  We are friends – whoever you were before. I do not have so many friends that I can let them go easily.”

He refused to stand on guard. “You know what I mean.”  He scoffed.  “They won’t hurt you.  You might as well be the Seeker’s sister, and Cullen won’t touch a hair on your head.”

Avexis turned to face their opponents, “They will if I hurt them. I’m a very dangerous mage.”  Her hair started to spark, and rise, as if in a wind.  Cassandra braced herself across the ring.

“Begin,” Bull ordered, and Avexis cast a barrier over her ally.

“Stop wasting your mana,” Rainier ordered, still standing – holding his sword, but not attempting to use it. “Just let them hit me, take my sword, and be done.”

“No, Trials by Combat don’t work that way.” Avexis squinted and raised her staff, and laid a glyph on the ground between them and their opponents. “Hurry up, Thom.”

“I’m guilty. I deserve whatever they can throw at me.”

“Fuck you, then,” Avexis gritted out. “I’ll defeat them myself – for you.”  She swung her staff around and cast Arcane Bolts, one after the other, the small amount of magic bouncing off the two warriors armor easily as she focused on a larger spell, circling around as they attempted to flank her teammate, slowed to a near crawl from the effects of her glyph.  “Thom, they’re trying to flank you.”  She cast another barrier.  “Fight back, damn it!”

“No.”

Cassandra dispelled the spell slowing them both, and immediately, Cullen narrowed his eyes, just before he charged. Avexis, waiting for that tell, darted in front of Thom, blocking the blow.  She slowed the two of them again.  Cassandra cursed, forced to wait until she could cancel it again.  “You realize this man killed children…”

“Yes,” Thom took a blow from Cassandra directly, before Avexis could shift to his unprotected side, but she managed to parry the next blow, and counter, using the sickle on the end of her staff to topple the Seeker to the ground. Cassandra glared through her helm and bounced back up immediately.  “He’s not that person any longer.”

“He’s not worth your defense,” Cassandra bit out.

“That’s for me to decide,” Avexis told her calmly. “I’m the Inquisitor, and I say he is.”  She pulled up a fire spell and the Seeker dispelled it, making her laugh at the way she was only countering, never attacking.  “You’ll have to go on the offensive soon enough, Seeker.  You’ll have to knock me down to reach him.”

“Not you!” Cassandra feinted and spun away to get at Thom, who didn’t even raise his shield. He fell to his knees, but stood up.  “Look at him.  He wants to be punished.  Just sentence him,” she snarled.  “This is cruel.”

“Non.” Avexis countered, and whirled back around to catch Cullen’s attack on her staff. Grinning, she caught her heel behind his boot, and tried to nudge him off balance.  “He’s been sentenced.”

He didn’t fall, “That won’t work, Inquisitor.” His face, unlike Cassandra’s was a sea of calm.

“Then hit me,” Avexis countered. She took an opportunity to throw two fireballs at his chest, and then planted her staff between her feet.  Lightning arced down, and around them, trapping them all in a static cage with Thom on the outside.  “Neither of you can reach him now, Seeker!  Fight me!”

Cassandra made a disgusted noise, but came at her without another word. Avexis blocked blow after blow from the Seeker, and felt her feet lose their balance as Cullen knocked her off her feet with a bash from his shield.  She glanced at her lover, and smiled at the serious expression.  She whirled her feet back underneath her and reached out – only to have Cassandra kick the staff away.

She stopped smiling. “I’m not disarmed.  I can’t be, unless I’m Silenced, or run out of mana,” she reminded Bull, shoulders heaving as she stood.  She wiped away a tickling trickle of sweat, and was surprised to see it dark with blood instead.

“Keep going, Boss,” Bull sighed loudly. “You go ahead and get your ass kicked.”

Avexis, now with hands free, cast a barrier, only to bend down to shoot raw, untamed lightning through the ground and into their feet, the afterglow of the spell burned into her retinas as she Fadestepped away. “Any time, Thom!”

He still stood on the outside of the static cage. Cassandra landed a blow to her arm as Avexis blocked with her gauntlet, wincing.  “You mean to let them…” for the first time he sounded unsure.

“You know what Cullen is like in the training ring, and Cassandra too,” Avexis panted and Fadestepped away, her mana too low to fight back. “Did you honestly think they’d be easy on me?  What will I learn if they are?  I have a lesson to memorize.”

Cullen and Cassandra approached from opposite flanks, and Avexis cast another barrier, completely depleting herself. She fell to one knee with the effort, and then pushed herself back up.  The static cage disappeared with a crackle of grounding energy.  “Not defenseless,” she told Bull, and pulled a dagger.  “I will not yield!”

Thom groaned, and stepped in front of her, shield out.

Cullen grinned at him, “And now it’s a fight.” Thom put up his guard, and crouched, blocking blow after blow, as Cassandra redirected her attention towards him.  Thom parried Cullen’s blow, and counterattacked, and Avexis crept away, and slipped into the Fade again, coming right up behind the Seeker.  Closing her eyes, she whispered in Cassandra’s ear, as she pressed the dagger against her throat, “Yield?”

With a disgusted noise, Cassandra threw down her sword – but then flipped her over her shoulder. Startled, Avexis blocked Cassandra’s punch, and cast another barrier from her position on the ground, panting, and then slipped away and behind her before she could use her shield to bash her down into the pounded dirt.

Avexis crouched, breathing, feeling grit under her nails, watching Thom. Two more feet and she’d have her staff again… she dove for it, but miscalculated.  Cullen’s sword swung down towards her, a look of horror in her lover’s eyes – the momentum too much to stop his heavy weapon.  Her barrier flickered away in that instant, as her hand closed around her staff, and she braced for the impact, unable to cast the protection again so soon.

A clash rang through the air, and a shield stood in the way of Cullen’s sword.

Thom’s shield swung down and around, Cullen’s weapon twirled away, and both warriors stepped back, as she scrambled back to her feet. Rainier grunted, “Let’s take these two down to size, shall we, Milady?”

“Oui,” Avexis beamed, and stood up, wiping dirt away from her mouth.

“Calling it,” Bull grunted. All four combatants turned towards him in disbelief.  “This’ll go on all day.  It’s a draw, and you know it.  The Inquisitor will go down without someone standing in front of her, sure, but as soon as Thom entered the fight, the only way to end this involves punching.”  He crossed his arms.  “Go ahead, keep fighting if you want to, but you might as well just go back behind the tavern and have it out with each other, if you’re that pissed.  Besides, I’ve seen the Commander’s unarmed combat – and his sword’s out of the ring.  Somebody’d get hurt.”

“He’s a traitor,” Cassandra spat in the dirt. Her mouth was bleeding.

Avexis blinked. When had that happened?  “Cassandra… you’re…”

The Seeker spat again. “I’m fine.”  She sheathed her sword and marched up to Thom.  “A draw.  A truce then?”  She held out her hand.

Thom stared at it.

“You two have to be able to fight together,” Avexis advised them. “I’m not so awash in friends that I can leave Thom behind.  And we’re going back into Orlais – into the Arbor Wilds.  In less than a month, or as soon as the supply lines are figured out.  Whichever comes first.”

Thom took the Seeker’s hand and clasped it. “Thank you, Seeker.  I… I’ll be sporting those bruises for a while.”

“Hopefully, they’ll teach you something,” Cassandra pursed her lips and took her hand back.

Cullen stood aside, rubbing the back of his neck, “Inquisitor, I…”

“It was a good fight,” Avexis smiled at him serenely. “Now, be nice, Commander.”

Cullen sighed, and offered his hand. “Rainier.” 

“Commander.” Thom took his hand.  “I… hate to think I’ve lost your respect, Serah.”

“You have,” Cullen was blunt. “But perhaps…” he glanced at Avexis, flushing, “Perhaps you can earn it back by being where I can’t be.”

“I will, Commander.” Avexis looked out at the crowd, seeing distrust still written on a lot of faces. “The Inquisition has always given people a place to atone for sins. We allied ourselves with rebel mages, and Templars that want to change their lives. We are giving Grey Wardens another chance to prove themselves the servants of Thedas. If you’re willing to change, the Inquisition will give you a place to do so. Why, then, is it so hard to give one man, who has admitted his crime and wishes to atone, that chance? Are any of you perfect? Can’t we all use a second chance? Thom Rainier has earned his second chance, and he’s going to get it, even if I have to fight every single one of you for it.” She looked around at the crowd… “Anyone?” No one stood, came forward, or even made a sound. “Good. Show’s over. Go back to whatever you were doing.”

Avexis turned around and looked at her fellow combatants. “I’m buying the whisky,” she informed them with a cheerful smile that didn’t match the blood dripping from her hairline.

“Not until after you see a healer,” Cullen ordered and waved her in the direction of the Infirmary. “Go.  Now.”

“You, too.”

Cullen smirked, “You barely touched me. I’ll have a couple minor burns but…”

Avexis shoved him. “Go, now.  The burns will heal, but my lightning scars.  So, unless you want a pretty scar with an interesting story behind it to tell your grandchildren…” she stopped, horrified.

They stared at each other for a moment, but then Cullen laughed, low, and bowed before complying, as the crowd around them tittered with speculation.

“You, Milady Inquisitor, certainly have my respect.” He lifted her hand and kissed it.  “After you?”

She colored, and turned away without answering, confused.


	59. Possibilities and Hard Bargains

Grandchildren. Cullen flushed and focused on the paper in front of him, trying to ignore his more private thoughts about Avexis, in favor of paying attention to the Inquisitor arguing with Josephine about her ‘trial’ and subsequent pardoning of Thom Rainier.

The fight had cleared his head, at least. Rainier was someone he could trust to keep Avexis safe.  There was no question about that anymore.  He wouldn’t betray her for money. Now that he had time to think about it, her solution was brilliant. Even the near miss was fortuitous, as it showed, to everyone, his loyalty to Avexis, personally.

While that troubled him, it wasn’t what he was thinking about now. No harm had been done, and Avexis was safe.                                                             

It was the slip of Avexis’ tongue at the end of the battle that had him bothered. No, bothered wasn’t the right word here. Bewildered was a better one **.** Was she thinking about that? The future…

No, from the look on her face afterward, she realized the implication only after it had flown out of her mouth.

For that matter, was he thinking… about that?

It was frightening, in a way he didn’t want to admit, even to himself, unused to the idea of… possibilities. It felt suddenly like his options spread out before him like a banquet, and he only had to fill his plate.  He had to close his eyes for a moment, as the longing for her that never quite left him washed over him like a tide.  If he ignored everything that the Chantry had ever taught him – something he was getting better at doing - he was forced to admit that a life without her…

“Commander, are you well?” He snapped his eyes back open to meet Leliana’s knowing gaze. The woman tittered, and he sighed.  She knew exactly what he was thinking about.  Just like always.

“I’m quite well, not even a headache,” He managed to make impatience out of his embarrassment easily. “Ambassador, as the man has been pardoned, perhaps we could move on and deal with consequences as they occur?”

“Very well,” Josie conceded, and moved to her side of the table. “The Arbor Wilds, then?”

“I don’t know,” Leliana smirked, eyes gleaming under that damned hood. “I think perhaps the Inquisitor and Commander might need a moment alone.  To discuss – certain future developments.”

Avexis looked away from them all, eyes troubled, carefully not looking at him.

“Nonsense,” Cullen heard his own voice, oddly confident. “We have a war to plan.  I have Dagna’s report on the tools here, and Leliana has the results of Maddox’s interrogation.”

“And no, I did not hurt him,” Leliana murmured to the Inquisitor. “It was unnecessary. He was quite willing to answer questions that did not apply to Samson’s whereabouts.  He had some very useful information about Corypheus, actually… I have my best people looking into it now.”

“Tranquil do not lie, Spymaster,” Avexis warned.

“I am aware of that, Inquisitor. Misdirection is a possibility, however slight,” Leliana blinked innocently. “I will verify any information Maddox gives us, Inquisitor.  It’s a matter of diligence.”

“What about his Cure?” Cullen asked, his voice low.

Avexis played with one of the map markers idly. “I have consulted with Cassandra and Fiona. It appears the Vigil is…” she shuddered, “Involved and somewhat dangerous. We would be summoning a spirit, after all.  The accounts Rhys and Evangeline supplied us of Pharamond’s cure… disturb me.  It’s possible that the danger came from him being Tranquil when he performed the ritual, but that isn’t certain. By no means can we guarantee Maddox’s survival – or those that assist him.”  She clutched the marker in her hand.  “We will undertake it anyway – as soon as we can.  We must try.  Commander, did you write to Guard Captain Aveline?”

Cullen smiled, trying to lighten her tension, “You know my skills at letter writing, Inquisitor. I asked Varric to do it.”  He handed over one of the many letters spread before him.  “Maddox’s sweetheart is unmarried and on her way.”

“L’amour conquiert tout,” Avexis murmured, looking even paler.

“Well said,” Leliana’s eyes were dark again.

Avexis braced herself against the table, “And she… knows? What he is?  What we’re going to try to do?”

“She knows everything Varric knows,” Cullen spoke lowly. “She knew Maddox was Tranquil.  She knows his allegiance.  She knows he might not live, and that the Cure might fail.  And still she comes.”

“I’ll prepare a room for her,” Josie scribbled on her page.

“Give her free access to Maddox,” Avexis ordered. “If we can find him a new purpose, all may not be lost.”

Leliana nodded and Avexis moved on, “How goes the selection of a new Divine?”

“Val Royeaux holds its breath to see who you will back,” Josie supplied when Leliana didn’t.

“And I’m unwilling to make that statement,” Avexis mused.

“Is it so different from deciding the fate of nations?” Leliana lips quirked upward and she played with her sleeve with idle fingers.

“Oui,” Avexis murmured. “Yes, it is.”  She paused, “Same… main contenders?”

“Nothing has changed, except Vivienne is gaining some traction in certain quarters.” Josie looked down at her page.  “The word is that Empress Celene is considering her options…”

“Non, Vivienne is not an option I will consider,” Avexis shuddered. “I will give you my decision soon, Josie.  Until then, play… carefully with both Celene and Vivienne.”

“Has Madame de Fer asked…”

“No,” Avexis looked down, “but I have no doubt she expects it. After all, one good turn deserves another.  And… I need to decide where I play the favor I owe her.”

“I would have thought that the wyvern’s heart would have…” Cullen began.

“It did not work, Commander,” Avexis stressed soft, but insistently. “I could kill a hundred wyverns, but the potion did not work.  The burden of debt is still on my side.”  

Leliana looked at Avexis and asked softly, “Should there even be a debt for doing what she was supposed to do in the first place?”

Avexis took a breath, “I think we should adjourn for the day.  My mind is troubled, and I can’t think clearly enough to make life or death decisions.  Does this afternoon work for all of you?”

 

_< EotD>_

 

The chapel was quiet, this time of day, the usual morning petitioners long since dispersed. Cullen watched Avexis pour her heart out to the Maker in her native tongue – a safe enough language, since most of the Orlesian courtiers never seemed to leave the Great Hall.  He had a theory they felt they’d be more likely to catch Josephine coming out of her office there. They all knew that Josephine was more likely to listen than Avexis **.**

He wasn’t praying himself, just protecting her against anyone approaching her while she tried to come to a conclusion.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her so turbulent – even in Haven.

She rose at last, frowning, but smiled when she saw him. “Protecting me again, Hot Templar?”

“Perhaps,” he admitted. “Did you come to a decision?”

“Non.” She bit the word off. “It… doesn’t seem my place, somehow.  And yet, there are those I wouldn’t want to see attain the Sunburst Throne.”  She leaned against one of the wooden pews, frowning.  “Cassandra is the obvious choice, but she’d never forgive me.  Can you imagine her face, scowling underneath that hat?”

“Perhaps you should ask her what she thinks.”

Avexis shuddered, “I don’t feel like being in a fight today, merci beaucoup.”

“What about Leliana?”

“So ruthless,” Avexis fidgeted with a loose thread. “I… don’t want to ask what her plans could be.  She scares me.” 

“And Vivienne?”

“Worse yet,” Avexis eyes went hooded and dark. “She’d do great things for herself, and make some waves, certainly.  But ‘magic should serve man’, not one person’s ambition… no one is more ambitious than Madame. Dorian’s stories about the Imperium are fine object lessons…” her words disappeared into her thoughts only emerging hard and assured.  “Mother Iona is not an option.  She serves only the way the Chantry used to be – the Chantry that led us to Kirkwall, and the war, and the Conclave.  And that doesn’t help the fact that I’m not the Herald, just the Inquisitor.  They shouldn’t take my words as inspired, and yet, Josie says they will…”

“I know that you don’t believe you’re the Herald, and it’s true that it wasn’t Andraste that helped you escape the Fade, but other than Divine intervention, is there an explanation for your survival? That is what they see when they look at you. They can’t ignore the possibility of the Maker’s involvement. If it bothers you, back someone as yourself, not the Inquisitor.”

“It may come to that…” Avexis hesitated, and then pressed on. “I’m… bothered by other things, too, Cullen.” 

“You can always talk to me, Ladybird,” she turned to bury her face into his chest, and he could barely make out her next words.

“What happens to us… after this?” Her voice wobbled.  “What I said earlier – that can’t happen, can it?  We can’t… I can’t…”

Cullen closed his eyes, unable to look at her pain. “I… only know this.  That I can’t lose you.  Not to Corypheus, and not back to the Circles.”  Saying the words aloud ripped something away and he grabbed her, holding her tight.  “I can’t. I won’t.”

“I’m never going back to the Circles, Cullen.”

“You say that now. Someday, you might not have the choice.  I can’t… make my own plans, knowing that.  I won’t make any, without including you.”

Avexis pulled back, wiping her eyes, “Listen to us. We sound like a pair of libertarians!”

“No,” Cullen pulled back and leaned against her forehead. “No, we sound like…” he fumbled for the word. “Egalitarians?”

“Aequitarians,” Avexis giggled. “We’re Aequitarians.” She cupped his face.  “I’ll go speak to Cassandra, mon petit chou.  See if I can make her understand what’s at risk.”  She kissed him, softly.  “And then we’ll know whether we must trust this to the Maker, or whether we should give Him a hand.  But first, I should eat.  I was too worried this morning to even try.”

 

_< EotD>_

 

Avexis approached Cassandra with caution that afternoon, the woman buried deep in the new book of Varric’s he’d finally finished, sitting crosslegged up in her loft room above the armory. “Seeker?”

Cassandra started to reach for her sword, and then relaxed when she saw who it was, “Go away. I’ve just reached the good part.”

“Non,” Avexis settled herself on a bench. “I am sorry to interrupt your reading time, but this is too important.”

“This is about being the Divine, then,” Cassandra’s faced creased. “I’ve been expecting this.”

“And?”

“I’d prefer to let the vote proceed – naturally.”

“I would rather not interfere, but I don’t want to see the progress the Inquisition has made fall apart entirely under Mother Iona. I certainly don’t want to see the mess Vivienne would create as Divine. I may be forced to intervene to keep the worst from happening.”

Cassandra’s disgusted noise echoed against the rafters, and she set down her book. “I have – thoughts, of course.  On the Seekers, and how to proceed.  And I have… misgivings.”

Avexis took a breath, “Do some of them concern a certain Knight-Captain?”

Cassandra narrowed her eyes, “That is none of your business.”

“Cullen is bringing him back from the Western Approach, as we scale back our defenses there. He’ll be here within the week.  Didn’t he tell you?”

“Oh,” the woman flushed. “I haven’t had a letter from him in… a while.  That would explain why, if he’s… traveling.”

“Divines are supposed to be chaste, Cassandra.”

The warrior snorted, “And rarely are. I have no qualms about changing that little detail.  Nowhere in the Chant is it written that a Divine, a Revered Mother, or a Sister cannot have…” 

Avexis smirked, “Oh, really? And you and Rylen are…”

“Be still.” Cassandra cleared her throat, “And no.  But his letters suggest…”

“Oh?”

“Hmph. You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Of course I am.” Avexis leaned forward, clasping her hands between her knees.  “I trust you, Cassandra.  I trust you more than any person on Thedas – except perhaps Cullen.  I have reservations, though.  You…” she paused, hesitating.

“Speak. I will listen, my friend.”

Avexis pressed her lips together, and blurted it out, “You want to restore the Circles, n’est-ce pas? And yet I’m your friend.  You were in love with one mage and served the Inquisition under, well… me **.** How can you say that on one hand, and restore the Towers on the other? Which is it, Cassandra?  Can mages be trusted? Or are they to be feared?”

Cassandra answered slow, “It depends on the mage. Can you trust a Seeker?”

“One, at least. I think.  But will you decide that even I have to be shut away for my own safety?  And what happens to Cullen when he… loses me?  What happens to all of us, when the Inquisition is disbanded, our goals met?”

“People are people. Some inspire trust, some loyalty, some betrayal. We are all our own choices.  Yours do you credit,” Cassandra gripped her hand, “I want to see you married, Avexis.”

Avexis choked, “You don’t know what you’re saying. Too much sun?”

“Don’t tell me I’m delusional. I was there.  I heard your words, I saw Cullen’s face.  He’s been walking around in a daze ever since.  If you make me Divine, I’ll take it one step further.  I want to do the honors. You, at least, have earned your liberty.  Will you take it?”

Avexis looked up at her with hooded eyes, “And let the rest of us suffocate in a broken system under Vivienne? If she doesn’t become Divine, she will certainly become the Grand Enchanter. All of her power is based upon mages being scary, and that she is the scariest one of all. She wants the status quo, Cassandra.  I can’t… I can’t live with that.”

“Did I ever say that I had no intention of changing things?”

“You insinuated it.”

“Change comes slowly.”

“Or in an instant. A Chantry explodes.  The sky rips open.  A friend betrays.  A spirit of Faith restores a Tranquil.”

“Those are extreme examples…”

“What would it have taken for Galyan to blow up the Chantry? We’re all capable of great beauty and great horrors, my friend, whatever our gifts.”

Cassandra pressed her lips together, “I cannot say.”

“Then… do more than make it better, Cassandra. Make it right.”

“Mages need to learn somewhere…”

“So does the rest of the world! Apprenticeships, training, schools, these are universal. As long as the rules for mages are different, people will fear them. They will fear me.  I am as tired of being feared as I am of being afraid.”

“That is… fair.”

“Quit claiming it’s ‘to protect us’ when all you are really doing is protecting yourselves!”

Cassandra winced. “You are-”

“Right. I’m right.  And you know it, when you stop trying to justify ages past of poor decisions and look at what has been done in the name of ‘keeping us safe’ and the warping of the words ‘magic should serve man’.  Mages are your family, your friends, your allies – and have been since you were a child.  Your uncle, Galyan, me, Dorian… even Cole.  You can’t afford to think the same way any longer. We can’t afford to allow the world to think the same way any longer. If we don’t do something different, we won’t get a different result.”

Cassandra closed her eyes. “I will think.”

“And so will I. I’ll tell Josie I can’t decide yet.”  Avexis stood.  “If I don’t back you, I can’t back anyone, Seeker.  But I insist upon knowing what will happen to us if I do.  No more uncertainty for any of us that grew up in a Circle, and never want to return.  That is the price.”

“You drive a hard bargain.” The Seeker’s lips were tight.

“It’s not a bargain. This will cost more than anything in the history of Thedas.”  Avexis turned away, and started down the stairs.  “This will cost trust.  You can’t afford to lose mine.  What’s more, I don’t think you want to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> L'Amour conquiert tout. - Love conquers all.


	60. Gilded Churches and Golden Boxes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Posting a day early, because I won't get a chance tomorrow.

It was a week later when Leliana called her up to her aerie and silently handed her a letter from the deceased Divine Justinia.

“Is this a trick?” Avexis asked, confused. “Or is it…”

“It’s real,” Leliana breathed, unusually excited. “It’s her handwriting.  This type of letter isn’t unheard of. She must have left instructions to have it sent upon her death.”  She took the letter back, holding it like something sacred.  “She wants me to go to Valance – to the Chantry there.  She spent years in service there, before she ascended the throne.  I’m going.  Immediately.”

Avexis shivered. “Valance?  You can’t go to Valance. Leliana, the war is still going on.  You’re needed here.  How can you justify the time it would take to-”

“Come with me.” Leliana dared her.  “The ravens will find me well enough.  It’s not far, relatively.  We could be back in two weeks – I know the Commander is further behind than he likes to admit – and so are Josie’s allies.  We’re a month out, at least, before we can move on the Wilds.”

Avexis shook her head, “Maddox’s Cure…”

“Fiona has that well in hand, with Dorian’s assistance. Cassandra is sharing her knowledge of the Vigil. Is there really a way you can assist?  Your own Cure was… too unorthodox to be reliable.  Unless you’re planning to take Maddox to a rift and shove him through?”  Leliana’s tone was a touch too bitter to be humorous.

Avexis glowered at her. “I wasn’t planning on it.  Fiona and Dorian describe a formal ritual, complete with safeguards and enough Templars to kill the demons if they fail.”

“And they’ll manage well enough without you looking over their shoulder.”

Avexis hesitated. “Leliana, I’m not sure...”

“Whatever Justinia left me, it’s of value to the Inquisition. I would have you there, when we recover it.”  Leliana sighed, “And I’d rather not go alone.  There will be enemies, and not just mine, who have intercepted this letter, and intend to use what she left for themselves.”

Avexis closed her eyes, praying for patience. “Let me notify the Commander and Ambassador of my departure, and we’ll leave within the day.”

 

_< EotD>_

 

“She wants you to go to Valance? Now?  A dead woman sends a letter and you need to drop everything?”  Cullen braced himself against his desk.  “Ladybird… this is crazy. It sounds like a wild goose chase.”  He signed hard enough that the flame of the candle on his desk guttered from the gust.  “We’ve only just returned from Val Royeaux…”

“She is convinced that the letter is from the Most Holy,” Avexis folded her arms across her chest. “I think she needs to believe it.  None of us have had time to… grieve.  Leliana possibly least of all.”

Cullen ran his fingers through his hair, and cupped the back of his neck. “I don’t like to think of you going on your own.  Leliana…”

“Leliana died for me, once upon a time, in a different future,” Avexis reminded him gently. “I’m safe with her.”

“And if she dies for you again, you’ll be alone.”

Avexis pressed her lips together. “No one else can be spared, Cullen.  Not now.  Cassandra is needed for the Cure.  We have to make the attempt before the Arbor Wilds – or we have to depend purely on Dagna’s research to defeat Samson.  You need Bull and Thom to run drills.”

“What about Dorian?”

“He’s helping with the Cure,” Avexis hesitated, “and he received some… upsetting news recently. Apparently, his father is attempting to make him come home – possibly using force.  He’s already rather upset with me that I don’t have time to go to Redcliffe with him – perhaps after I get back from Valance?  I know Corypheus’ troops are holding up our progress… but that long?”  She shrugged, “There’s not enough time for everything that needs to be done.  Solas is out of the question.  Cole… if I have to go, I’d rather he stay, to help Maddox, if we succeed, and to help his sweetheart, if we fail.”

Cullen’s face creased, “What about Sera? She’s Andrastian, even.  Just tell her it’s a pilgrimage, or even a treasure hunt… either way, she’ll tag along.”

Avexis looked at him sideways and sighed, “Very well. We’re leaving today.”

Seeing that he was going to get no further concessions, Cullen bent and kissed her. “Safe travels, Ladybird.  Hurry back from your rotten homeland.”

“With you here?” She teased, “How could I not?”

 

_< EotD>_

 

The Chantry itself was elaborate, for its size. Rich looking paintings of everyone from Andraste to the Empress herself lined the golden-trimmed walls.  Sera hooted, “I can’t believe this place hasn’t been looted yet!”  Leliana narrowed her eyes at her, and the elf stuck her tongue out.  “Yeah, yeah, no touching the goodies,” she grumbled.  “Wasn’t gonna.  Jennies don’t steal from Chantry folk that haven’t earned it.”  She paused, “I don’t think I’ve heard nothing about Valance.  Probably too dinky to have contacts.  Might want to look into that.” 

There was a groan from an inner door, and Avexis pressed Sera into the shadows. “Hide, and stay hidden. Cover my back. We don’t know who else is here.” she hissed at her friend, who rolled her eyes before complying.

The next few minutes dragged by, Avexis hunted for clues while looking at artwork, while Leliana chatted benignly with her old acquaintance, Sister Natalie. Sera was nowhere to be seen – and Avexis found herself even looking up into the gilded rafters, somehow expecting to see the rogue perched like a bird above them all, snickering.

She moved a small flower in the base of one of the fancy frames, and a door slid open on the other side of the altar.

“Success!” Natalie announced, smiling winningly.

Leliana turned, as graciously as ever, towards the hidden chamber. “Come, let’s see what Justinia thought was so valuable.”

There were coffers full of dust, and a pile of ancient texts in one corner that Avexis knelt to sort through. “Nothing,” she announced at last.  “Are you sure that…” she spotted a small gold box with a rose on the lid, and reached for it.  “Wait, Leliana… I think…”

As Avexis turned to draw her attention to the anomaly, Leliana was already holding a knife to Sister Natalie’s throat. Avexis froze, unwilling to summon her magic in a Chantry – but slowly, she pulsed a small flame into the palm of her hand.  Natalie’s eyes widened, and then narrowed, recognizing that her show of innocence had failed.

“I’m sorry we kept you waiting, Natalie. How long have you been here? The last information I had, you were in Morelle. I lost track of you after Halamshiral. Have you been here that long? My, my… How bored you must have been, with only a few sisters and no lovers to keep you occupied. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you might have been praying. We both know that’s not the case, though, don’t we?” Leliana’s left hand drew another knife, and brushed it along the Sister’s cheek, almost tenderly, her voice dripping with bitterness.

Avexis had never seen her so angry, even in Redcliffe, before she gave her life to buy Avexis and Dorian time, she hadn’t shown such a sharp edge.

“How dare you condemn me, Leliana? You betrayed the Chantry. You betrayed Andraste. You betrayed everything you claimed to believe in when you turned your back on us.” Natalie’s voice was no less acrid, but in hers there was also fear, and bravado. Natalie sounded desperate, her insults intended to buy time… think of a way out.

“You and the Right Hand, we all know you only started the Inquisition to seize power. You gathered riff raff and scum around this False Prophet. This former tranquil, Mage whore… Oh yes, we know all about her… She killed her lover in Crestwood, you know that. Trying to cover up… She does seem to have a preference for…”

Leliana smiled cruelly as she tsked the frightened Sister. “Tread carefully, Natalie. She holds more power in the palm of her hand than you can imagine. It wouldn’t do to anger either of us too much. We might take our time killing you. But it would be a shame to mar that pretty face… n’est-ce pas?”

The knife at her throat pressed a little more firmly. A small bead of blood formed around the blade, and made its way down to the pristine collar of her robes. The stain spread, leeching into the parchment white and golden braid like an ink blot on damp paper.  

The hushed whispers of the Sister's blood reached out and held her attention, speaking of binding, of power, but Avexis wrenched her attention away.  Every single part of Avexis’ Orlesian soul clamored for the Sister’s death, but the words she said surprised her.  “Leliana…” she reached out her hand.  “Don’t.  She’s not worth it.  Whatever she wants to say about me, I know the truth.”

Leliana pulled back the knife at Natalie’s throat, but not the one brushing Natalie’s pale freckled cheek. “She serves Mother Iona, Inquisitor.  She endangers everything we’ve worked for!  Leaving her alive is foolish. We cannot afford mistakes at this stage.”

“Leliana,” Avexis said gently, touching her on the arm. “Hasn’t there been enough bloodshed already? The Inquisition is supposed to stop the fighting, not create more corpses. This Chantry is so peaceful, it should be a place of belonging, of charity, and kindness. Let Justinia’s memory here be one of peace, not more death.  Don’t taint your love for her with blood.”

Leliana’s shoulders fell away, releasing the Sister from the cage of her body. Natalie stumbled away through the double doors.  “I hope we don’t regret this,” she whispered, staring at the floor.  “What did you find?”

Avexis handed over the small gold box, and Leliana opened it on her palm, her eyes angry. “This can’t be it!  It’s empty!”  She turned it upside down, and over, and her eyes softened.  “Oh…” her voice dropped to a whisper.  “The Left Hand should lay its burden down.”  She closed her eyes.  “She thought… she thought she failed me.  Used me…”  Leliana snapped the box shut.

Avexis tried to breathe normally. “Divine Justinia wanted you to lay your burden down,” she whispered.  “Please, Leliana, she was your oldest friend.  Can you try?”

“I don’t know.” Leliana turned and left the cathedral, without another word.

The hushed silence of the holy place enveloped Avexis, and she leaned up against the closest wall, her legs shaking with the aftermath of adrenaline. Sera slipped out of the shadows, eyes wide.  “You called off Sister Shivs,” the woman’s voice was filled with awe.  “Shite, I didn’t think anyone could do that.”  The archer perched herself sideways on an altar, with folded legs.  “Maybe she’d make a good Divine after all, iffen someone holds back her knives...”

Avexis shook her head, “The problem with those of us who learn to kill and control with our gifts – is that it’s next to impossible to stop.”

“That’s shite,” Sera sniffed. “There’s always a chance to just quit, right?”

Avexis tilted her head back, “Can you, Sera? Can you ever just stop?  Does the death ever stop?”

A hand whacked her upside the head. “Quit that, Quizzie.  You keep choosing life – you didn’t even kill that creepy Maddox, when you had the chance.  And I know, somehow, that you’re planning to keep that Templar ass of a Samson under your heel…  else what would be the point of saving that Tranquil?”

Avexis glared at her, rubbing her head. “On his own merit.  Maddox, by Cullen’s account, was a talented mage – not a blood mage – in the Kirkwall Circle.”

Sera snorted, “Rare enough, that, from what Charade in Tantervale tells me.” She swung her legs down and followed them to the ground.  “You know best.  Come on, let’s go get a drink at whichever tavern’s got a bard tonight.  Could use some music, right?  Something lively.  This place… it gives me the colly-wobbles.”

“I’ll be along in a while, Sera,” Avexis pushed out. “I want to stay here for a while, and…”

Sera squinted at her, and then grabbed a taper, lighting it at the holy bowl of flame, and lit about ten candles, one after the other. “There.  It’s harder to find your faith in the dark.”  She slapped her shoulder, and Avexis rocked forward with the archer’s surprising strength.  “Go on then.  I’ll be right outside when you’re done.  And then we’ll eat.  I’m starving.”


	61. Reversing the Rite

It felt – familiar, and yet out of place to be standing in this spot, with his sword ready, arms aching the stance that had once felt more comfortable than sitting down.

Cullen didn’t belong here, with the remnants of the Templar faithful, all of who had been vetted thoroughly by himself, Cassandra, and the former Grand Enchanter. They were trustworthy, all of them, and none of them inclined to raise a weapon against the man in front of them, or the mages participating.

Rylen was there, staring more at the Seeker than at the Tranquil. Maddox sat, dull and uninterested, in the center of the protective glyph, surrounded by runes that Rhys and Dagna had worked out. They used Cole to relay messages, which made things easier, and more difficult in turn.  Compassion’s abilities made things faster perhaps, but his commentary left more questions than answers.  And no one liked the way he panicked when he first realized that Maddox ‘wasn’t there’.

Being in this room felt wrong. He wouldn’t be here at all, if Cassandra hadn’t made a point of requesting his presence. But it wasn’t just about his role in it, Maker knew this was the last thing he felt he had the right to do, but because Avexis should be here.   It should be Avexis to help Maddox through this. She knew what it was like, how he felt, and understood the lack of focus and whirlwind of emotions that he’d apparently have to cope with – if the Vigil worked. She would be able to talk him through the hard adjustments, and help him accept the change.

But Avexis wasn’t here, and he was. This ritual needed to succeed, for Maddox’ sake, certainly, but also for whatever was left of Samson. If there was anything left of the man he knew in Kirkwall, knowing that they had cured Maddox would reach it.

And this felt like atonement. When Maddox was made Tranquil, he hadn’t objected enough.  Wouldn’t it help, to right a wrong he’d allowed to occur?

Cullen shifted his eyes back to Rylen, and lifted a single eyebrow in question. The other man stiffened his arms, so that his greatsword didn’t quake in front of his Templar robes.  He sighed, relieved that he could at least see his friend through the initial withdrawal – and perhaps get him to see a healer before it all became overwhelming. He would not interfere – even though a war was a poor time to be hallucinating and shaking yourself awake.  He’d done it himself, back at Haven, after all.  And Rylen… Rylen would have Cassandra to help him through, just as he’d had Avexis talking him through the sleepless nights.

He missed her, and his mind wandered to where she was and what she was doing... did she miss him?

“Focus,” the Seeker grabbed at him, and he snapped to attention. “We’re about to start the incantation.  Do you remember?”

“I do,” Cullen replied shortly, looking again at Maddox. The Tranquil had been in the same position for the hour that it had taken to draw the glyph around him. Lyrium, mixed with salt and water, into a paste, and painted onto the stones – not as fancy as the raised dais that most Circles seemed to prefer for summoning spells, but more than functional, with the Arcanist’s little added touches. Maddox hadn’t moved as Dagna worked around him. His monotone as he asked her questions stood in stark contrast to the Arcanist’s enthusiasm in answering them.

“Good,” Cassandra swallowed nervously. “Usually this room would be filled with Seekers…”

“Will the lyrium… complicate matters?”

“If anything, it will draw more attention from the Fade,” Fiona cut in, quietly. “It will be different. More difficult for the mages to control, perhaps, but easier to focus the energy where it’s needed. That makes the odds of success better, though.” She looked at the former Templar with a hopeful smile, “It all balances out in the end.”

Maddox was encouraged to settle on his knees in the center of the glyph, and Dorian brushed the hair away from his mark with what looked to Cullen like tender fingers. “You understand the process, yes? Any last questions before we start?”

Maddox looked at Dorian, then around the room. “No, Altus Pavus. It was thoroughly explained and I understand.” With a quick nod and smile, Dorian carefully stepped out of the glyph, and with an uncharacteristically quick wave that lacked the mage’s normal embellishments, activated it into a glowing figure of hazy lyrium.

Cullen’s gut clenched as the scent of hot metal cut through his brain, reigniting his cravings. This would be... he prayed it would be over quickly, one way or the other.  If this went on for as long as some Harrowings, he’d be in a bad state. 

Once again, he wildly wished Avexis were here.

“Let’s begin, then,” Cassandra snapped impatiently, and closed her eyes. The mages took their places – Maddox ringed in the center of the circle by Fiona, Dorian, Anders, and a few other Senior Enchanters – Vivienne notably absent, openly disdainful of what she considered ‘a foolish endeavor’. Each mage held a rune, carved with lyrium into a disk of clay.  Cullen recognized a scant handful – these were not the offensive runes most familiar to him, though there were a few defensive symbols.

That seemed like a reasonable cautionary measure, given what they were about to undertake. He restrained himself from muttering a quick verse, to settle his mind.  It was time to begin, and Cassandra was beginning to glare at his too-long silence.  Taking a deep breath, Cullen began Chanting.

> “’Maker, though I am but one, I have called in your name,
> 
> And those who come to serve will know your glory.
> 
> I remembered for them. They will see what can be gained,
> 
> And though we are few against the wind, we are yours.’”
> 
>  

When he finished, Cassandra began, and Templars and mages alike followed her, chanting as one.

> “All men are the Work of our Maker’s hands,
> 
> From the lowest slaves to the highest kings.
> 
> Those who bring harm Without provocation to the least of His children,
> 
> Are hated and accursed by the Maker.

 

> “Those who bear false witness
> 
> and work to deceive others, know this:
> 
> There is but one Truth.
> 
> All things are known to our Maker, and he shall judge their lies.

 

> “All things in this world are finite.
> 
> What one man gains, another has lost.
> 
> Those who steal from their brothers and sisters do harm to their livelihood and to their peace of mind.
> 
> Our Maker sees this with a heavy heart.”

 

With a swift motion, Fiona broke her rune and declaimed, “Maker, hear our call. Send a spirit willing to heal the man before us. In your name, restore him as he was.”

Dorian broke his rune immediately afterward, crisp and precise, “Andraste, look upon this man with favor. Send a spirit to calm his soul and lend him Your Peace.”

One by one, the other enchanters broke their runes, calling upon the Maker and His Bride for aid in healing Maddox.  In the slow pace of the ritual, as they rose power around themselves, weaving it like cloth until it rested, thick and heavy enough to see over Maddox’s kneeling body, Cullen was reminded of his first Harrowings, in how it seemed to take hours. 

Time slowed as he was surrounded by magic but not a part of it.

And then, just as Cullen was beginning to panic with the lyrium’s proximity, it was Anders’ turn. Quickly, the mage broke his rune and called out to the Maker. “Maker, hear my plea. Send unto us a Spirit, willing to heal this mage and set right an injustice of long ago.”

The Chanting began again, a verse from Victoria, over and over, as the mages raised the magic and the Templars directed it into Maddox. “’Now her hand is raised. A sword to pierce the sun. With iron shield she defends the faithful. Let chaos be undone.’”

Cullen could feel the magic circling around him, no longer heavy with potential, instead active and ready to direct.   His body tensed, recognizing what would have to happen next.  Mages waved their hands, swirling the Fade around themselves and into their working.  Templars strained to contain it, and funnel it into the still calm of the summoning circle around Maddox, like filling a teacup from a waterfall.  As if on cue, the mages and Templars fell to one knee, swords and staves hitting the floor, and the vortex of power flared in the glyph with Maddox.

A brilliant white light appeared, almost blinding Cullen. As he squinted through the afterglow, he saw: there were two forms in the Glyph with Maddox.

The first he recognized. A young blond man with intense eyes almost hidden beyond shaggy bangs, an absurd hat perched atop his head. The other was a warrior in full plate armor. The visor on his helmet was closed, allowing no view of a face at all.

This was not a Spirit of Faith. Cullen reached for his sword and started to step forward. Dorian raised his hand quickly to stop his movement.

“Stay Still! The wards are holding. There is no danger… yet.”

The only two people in the room that didn’t appear to be uneasy at this turn of events were Maddox, and oddly Anders, who looked into the circle with an odd expression. A smile played at his lips as he looked at his old friend and nemesis.

The warrior in the circle took in his surroundings and spoke to Anders. “You called and I came. Did you doubt I would?”

“I knew someone would, Justice. I wasn’t sure if it would be you. Can you cure him?”

Cassandra looked upon the scene with wonder, awe, and confusion. “You are not Faith. Why did you come? We need Faith to cure Tranquility, not… Justice?”

“Why not Justice, Cassandra?” Cole tilted his head slightly and peeked out from under the brim of his hat. “Faith isn’t the only thing that can heal. Justice heals in its own way. Didn’t you know?”

Cassandra pressed her lips together, “I hadn’t thought of it that way. Why are there two of you?”

The question drew Justice’s attention. “There is more to be healed here than the Tranquility, Seeker. I can restore the connection to the Fade, but only Compassion can heal his heart and soul.”

“That… makes sense. My vigil…”

Justice cut in. “Your Vigil was for a different purpose, Seeker. No wrong was done you, other than a lie of omission at what the Vigil entailed. You chose, freely, and Faith gave you nothing that you didn’t have already. She restored to you what you had cast aside. The Chantry stole from this man, Maddox. You seek to right a wrong. That is my purpose. That is why I answer.”

Cullen sighed. He had allowed that wrong. He…

“You… Templar.” The glowing non-eyes behind the helm turned towards him, as if reading his thoughts.  “I know you.  Knew you.  Knight-Captain.  But this, at least, was not your doing. It was not your fault. What was done by that woman is not your burden to carry.  You carry enough, this guilt is something you can put down, if you choose.  Meredith Stannard was… damaged, distorted.  When Elthina gave her power, it was only a matter of time until she misused it.  That was nothing you could control.”

“I…"

The booming voice of Justice cut through his reverie before he could find the words to argue. “We are here for another purpose, are we not? Should we not attend to it?” Once again looking at Anders, he asked, “Is it the will of all of you that this man be healed and justice served?”

With a slight roll of his eyes, Dorian answered for all of them. “Yes, of course. If it weren’t we would be sipping tea and eating chocolate.”

Justice laughed. “You, I like – such an interesting mind, and so focused and angry about many things. You, I will watch.” He turned back to Maddox.  “Then let it be as you will.” He touched his forehead with his forefinger. “’Arise, Aegis of the Faith. You are not forgotten. Neither man nor the Maker shall forget your bravery.’”

A flash of light burst from Maddox, and when the light faded, his eyes were no longer calm and empty. His hands flew to his face and pressed tightly against his cheeks. Tears flowed down his face is a torrent of emotion, and strangled sobs echoed from the walls.

Looking at Cole, Justice said, “I have done all I can here. Compassion is what is needed now. Thank you for calling me to right this wrong. You have honored me.” He cast another eye at Dorian, and then nodding, flickered into nothing.  Dorian blinked, and Cullen was sure that the man trembled – as well he should.

He wouldn’t care to be the focus of a spirit of Justice. Especially that one.

The room echoed with sudden, strange space as Cole held the weeping Maddox in his arms. He whispered into the former Tranquil’s ear, then tilted his face up to meet his wet eyes. “You are not alone here. They will help where they can. Where you will allow them to. Do you want me to take the scar from you? Avexis wanted hers to stay, but you don’t have to. You can choose, now.” 

Through his tears and great gulping sobs, Maddox clutched at him. “Can you really do that? Is that possible?”

Cole beamed. “If it helps, I can do it.” Touching Maddox on the forehead, Cole spoke, “’All that the Maker has wrought in His Hand, Beloved and precious to Him.’” Cullen shivered.  He’d never heard the spirit quote from the Chant before. A bright light flashed in the Circle, but it dulled in comparison of the brightness of Cole’s smile. When the light faded, and his vision cleared, Cullen could see that all trace of the Starburst on Maddox forehead was gone. No evidence remained of his formerly Tranquil state – not even the shiny burn mark he barely noticed on his love.

Cole looked at Cullen. “It’s safe, Cullen. There is no demon, and he can never be possessed. You’ll take care of him, now,” he said, before he, too, flitted out of the Circle in a puff of smoky nothing.

Cullen blinked away the remains of his disorientation, trying to see through the haze. Cassandra scrambled for the center of the glyph, shoving stunned mages away in her urgency.

Fiona beat her there, and the Grand Enchanter knelt next to the Tranquil. “Maddox?”

Maddox opened his eyes again, life shining out from behind them. “Where is Marie?”  He grabbed at her.  “Marie?”

Fiona fell back. “It worked.”  Her head lolled forward.  “It worked.”  The murmurs rose around the room, mages clapping each other on the back, and laughing in success.  One or two walked over to the Templars, gesturing wildly in victory, and clasping hands as swords were sheathed.

Dorian was the first to respond to Maddox’s repeated request. He ran to the door and flung it open with his usual panache, all precision and erudition abandoned in favor of putting on a show, beckoning urgently to someone waiting outside.  “You may enter, milady,” he bowed low.  “He’s asking for you.”

A head appeared, small streaks of silver through darker brown, eyes wide and frightened. “Maddox?”  A woman in her middle years approached, glancing at Cullen, as if for permission, and then, at his nod and step aside, running towards the sobbing man.  “Maddox!”

Maddox crawled out of the still smoking glyph, and fell into his sweetheart’s arms, his shoulders heaving with sobs, and the woman – face glowing, cradled his head against her heart. “Marie… Marie… I’m so sorry.  I’m so…”

“Shush,” she whispered, and lifted his face up to kiss him, furiously. “Always such a…” she clutched him tighter, burying her face into his neck, as they held each other up.  “I didn’t think it was possible.  I didn’t think anyone could help… would help…”  Cassandra cast a glance at Rylen, and turned away from the room, already onto the next task.  Cullen watched his friend hesitate, and then follow, lengthening his stride to catch up with the Seeker.

It was with a light heart that Cullen made his lonely way back to his tower, coaxed Silky over and tied the shortest note he’d ever written to the Inquisitor to the bird’s leg.

 

_Ladybird,_

_It worked. M is restored.  All is ready._

_Come home soon._

_Yours,_

_C_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, Iduna loves to answer questions about the way magic works in Thedas. Ask her, because she wants to tell you. :D


	62. Bait, Socks, and Magic Mirrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about no chapter, yesterday. My computer had a hiccup, and I lost it. So yesterday's chapter, today, instead!

“Welcome home, Inquisitor.”

Avexis dismounted her unicorn, smiling briefly at Cullen as he helped her down. “Report?” She touched his face gently – a promise that they’d discuss why he looked so tired in private later.

Later.  It was always later, when they found the time.

“We’re ready to convene in the War Room as soon as you like.” If Cullen’s smile was too fond for an advisor’s, no one would dare comment.  “Lady Morrigan has a theory about what Corypheus is looking for that she wants to share with you, as soon as possible.”

“And Maddox?” Avexis marched towards her room, taking the courtyard stairs two or three at a time, Cullen keeping pace easily.

“Bethany reports he’s having difficulty sleeping…”

“Interesting. Has anyone told him he cannot be possessed?”

“Yes. It doesn’t seem to matter.”

Avexis nodded, and stopped, just outside of the double doors, and stared at the statues of Andraste displayed, eyes thoughtful. “Remind to me to ask Cassandra about teaching him meditations.”  She started walking again, nodding to the usual lingering nobles in the Great Hall without addressing them directly.  Cullen approved – once you got them talking, they tended to never stop dominating the Inquisitor’s precious time.

He coughed tactfully, “I believe Cassandra has other… considerations, right now.”

Avexis grinned, “Took fucking long enough.”

“There are those… unhappy with the situation,” Cullen warned her. “Leliana’s scouts have heard mutterings about allowing Maddox to stay here.  I admit to some personal worries, on that account.”

“We’ll discuss it during the meeting,” Avexis promised. “I’m sure that if there are valid concerns about security, we can find a solution.  But either a Tranquil is responsible for his actions while in that state, or he’s not.  You can’t make one rule for me and imprison him for the same crime.”

They reached her doorway, and Cullen paused just out of it, and touched her arm. “The difference is you never served Corypheus – or his general.”

Avexis leaned in closer, “But back in Haven no one knew that, Commander. And I was still put in charge when we reached Skyhold.  I could have been the undoing of all of us.  If Corypheus had one Tranquil at his beck and call, then why not two?”

“We didn’t know about Maddox, back then…”

“Ignorance is no excuse.” She sighed.  “Give me half an hour to bathe, and I’ll be down directly.”  She glanced around and whispered, “I don’t suppose you’d like to come up?”

Cullen smiled, and shook his head, “I need to pull together a few things for the meeting. And I left Rylen to guard my desk.  He’ll… be wanting to find someone, I have no doubt.”

“Ah, l’amour,” Avexis teased. “So impatient.”  She nudged Cullen, “He’s not shirking his duties to play, is he?”

Cullen raised one eyebrow and smirked, “No more than anyone else, Inquisitor.” His smile turned soft, “He offered to give me a break, to come and meet you.  And… Josephine made herself scarce.  But I shouldn’t take advantage.  We… don’t have much time, and much to do.”

“Oui,” Avexis’ face fell. “But I will see you later?  Privately.  After the meeting?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Cullen promised, laughing, “Even if all we can do is eat and plan.”

“And drop ink into our food as we scribble madly,” She took a risk, reaching out and squeezing his elbow. “I missed you, Cullen.” 

“And I you.” He would never stop missing her.

 

_< EotD>_

 

“It would be easier to show you,” Avexis muttered, with simpering coyness. Morrigan didn’t answer, just quirked up her lips.  “Why not follow the nice apostate?  Learn a little about Elvhen artifacts, try to understand what Corypheus wants so desperately…”  She stared around her, hands shaking, despite her light tone.  “I didn’t expect you to show me a whole different world.”  She stepped out a little further, taking in the stone flagstones, the lack of discernable ceiling or sky, the foggy quality of the air.  “Where are we?”

“I admit, I feel a little better about showing you the Crossroads than I would most other so-called Circle mages.” Morrigan folded her arms across her stomach, a little defensively.  “Ignorant fools.”

“The Crossroads?”

“My own name for them. A place… between.  The Elvhen strongholds were isolated – remote beyond imagining.  This,” Morrigan gestured very briefly, “is how they traveled.”

Avexis breathed, nearly able to taste the magic, it was so thick. “The Circle wouldn’t know what to do with this,” she admitted, reluctantly.  “It’s beyond anything they would admit is possible.”

“Most of them ignorant fools,” Morrigan repeated. “Tell me…” she hesitated, “Does being here… irritate you?  Like phantom ants crawling on your skin?  Like a constant drain, wearing you down?”

Avexis frowned, “No?”

Morrigan’s eyes flashed, “Excellent. That theory is confirmed, at least.  I believe that the Eluvians were – are - attuned to elves.  Humans can cross through, but not without… discomfort.”

“And yet you sheltered here?” Avexis ran a hand up one of the strange representations of trees – made out of some metal or rock she didn’t recognize. “I feel nothing.  If anything, I feel… powerful.”  She shivered.  “My magic feels like it’s waking up.”  Goosebumps raised along her arms, and she rubbed them.  “These look like something I saw in the Exalted Plains.  Almost identical, in fact.”

“Fascinating,” Morrigan smiled mysteriously. “I wish we had time to linger.  Your observations would be invaluable.  But… we both have other responsibilities.  Perhaps another time…”

But Avexis wasn’t done. “You really think Corypheus is searching for this, instead of a way into the Fade?”  She shook her head, “This isn’t the Fade.  I’ve been in the Fade.  Twice.  Not that I’m counting…”

Morrigan tipped her head back and laughed. “Can you not feel it?”  She let a soft glow of magic creep up her hand.  “Magic feels like air, here.  Essential.  Necessary.”  She turned and led the way back to the mirror, hips swinging.  “Corypheus seeks entry to the Fade, as you say.  Here, the barriers are thin – and the amount of power to pierce the Veil is readily available… he need only beckon, and it would come.”

Avexis shuddered, “I understand.”

“Good,” Morrigan purred, and stepped back into the mirror.

Avexis took one last glance around the barren – and yet so full of magic – Crossroads before sighing, and reluctantly, stepped through the blue shimmer to the other side of reality. Skyhold would seem very – loud, after this peace. 

 

_< EotD>_

 

The meeting reconvened with arguments. On the other side of the Eluvian, Avexis had to fight her urge to summon magic – just to make sure it was still there.  She felt – bereft, and yet somehow, she was relieved.  She’d never felt so much power ready to surrender itself to her – as if it was an entity in itself, begging to be used as she saw fit.

Unnerving. But now they had to focus on finding Corypheus, to prevent him from reaching the Crossroads.  Not such an easy task – and complicated by their need to contact Samson first.

“And no one knows where he is?”

“Except that he’s in the Wilds, somewhere,” Leliana pressed her lips together. “My scouts are working day and night, Inquisitor.  We spot him, and he… disappears.  We’ve sabotaged supplies, torched encampments, taken out supply lines, and still he evades us.”

Avexis shook her head, “So much depends on whether we can tell Samson that Maddox is no longer Tranquil.”

Josephine hesitated, but asked, in a soft voice, “Have you asked Maddox for Samson’s whereabouts?”

“I have not.” Avexis lifted her chin, ready to defend her actions.  “I told him we didn’t need his information.  I won’t ask him to betray his friend.  I won’t go back on my word.”

“Without that information, the Cure was for nothing,” Leliana argued.

“We repealed the unfair sentence of an innocent man! We gave him his life back!  How is that nothing?!”

Leliana countered, “He was innocent before his Rite. Afterward… that is open for some debate, Inquisitor.  He was actively assisting the enemy.”

Her other advisors were silent. Cullen spoke after a moment.  “You promised that you wouldn’t use Maddox, Inquisitor.  But I… I daresay that my presence might be enough for Samson to show his face.  Send me instead.  Ahead of the bulk of the troops.  My work is there, after all.”

Avexis pursed her mouth, “Commander…”

“If anything will work, it is this,” he murmured, meeting her eyes. “If you are honestly trying to redeem Samson…”

“Not redemption, exactly,” Avexis protested. “I want to strike a blow against Corypheus by removing his general.  That removal doesn’t necessarily mean we have to kill him.”

“’That’s all?’” Cassandra humphed, with a touch of overly dry humor.

“A morale reduction in his troops, then,” Cullen countered. “Whatever you call it, without bait, he’ll just slip away again, until someone forces a confrontation.  I’d rather that not be you.”  He stood up straight, and lifted his chin.  “I’m the best bait you have, aside from the man you refuse to use.”

Avexis touched her scar, and stared blankly at the maps spread across the table, frantically searching her mind for another way.  One that didn't mean risking... but she was being sentimental and foolish.  She closed her eyes, “Fine.  We do what must be done.  Commander, prepare to travel ahead of the bulk of your troops into the Arbor Wilds,” she furrowed her forehead.  “Leliana, Josie… can we afford for me to go with him?”  Mentally, she listed all the things that had to be done – she’d promised Dorian, and now Cole, that she’d go to Redcliffe…  “Nevermind,” she sighed, “I know the answer.  I can’t.”  Avexis closed her eyes again.  “How soon can you leave, Commander?”

“Within the day. I’ll take the bare minimum of troops with me, for the fastest travel we can manage.”

“Maker go with you…” Avexis whispered, meeting his eyes and letting him see the fear there. “Cullen.”

He bowed, and pulled himself away from the table. “I’ll prepare at once.”

 

 

_< EotD>_

  

Cullen reached the Great Hall, to find Maddox, apparently lying in wait for him. The man peeled himself away from a wall to follow.  “Commander Cullen, the word is you will be traveling into the Arbor Wilds soon, to confront and defeat Samson and the Elder One.”

Cullen narrowed his eyes at the man. He didn’t approve with the ex-Tranquil having open run of Skyhold, but his correspondence had, so far, been non-existent.  Varric and Sera had been watching him.  Neither him or his Marie had talked with much of anyone outside of each other.  If they were spying, they were very good.  “Your information is correct,” he confirmed, and turned away.  “Excuse me.  I have things to do.”

“Take me with you,” Maddox touched his arm. “I may not have control of my magic, but I can appeal to Samson, make him see…”

Cullen snorted, “Maddox, I have enough guilt about how you spent the last decade. The Arbor Wilds is a battlefield.  If you die on Marie now…”

“Samson won’t touch me,” Maddox smiled, smug. “He’s a friend.  I trust him.  He owes me, and I… owe him.”

“But Corypheus’ troops might. Forgive me for believing that the burden of your debt rests heavier on your conscience than his,” Cullen countered, folding his arms across his chest defensively.  “I have my orders, Maddox.  The Inquisitor refuses to use you.  Avexis believes you have been used enough.”

Maddox’ eyes twinkled, “So it’s true. I can hardly believe it.  Knight-Captain Cullen, dallying with one of his charges?  Tell me, when is the happy day?  The Orlesian can speak of little else but their wedding clothes.”

“She is not my charge.” Cullen stepped forward and the mage backed up against the wall. “She is no one’s charge.  She is the Inquisitor.  And I am not a Knight-Captain.  You’d do well to remember that.”  His head spun, aching.  Was it true?  Even Orlesians wouldn’t… leap to such conclusions from gossip, would they?

“You’re still fucking her, whatever names you call each other in bed,” Maddox tilted his head. “Don’t worry, I’m not judging.  I can’t.  And you’ve… changed.  Almost as much as I have, Commander.”  He slipped sideways, unintimidated by Cullen’s physical presence.  “I’ll appeal to the Inquisitor directly then.”

“I’ll be gone by the time you are granted an audience,” Cullen turned away.

“No, he won’t,” Avexis spoke up, voice clear as she stepped through the door. “Maddox, I gave you a promise.  What would Marie say?”

“She agrees that I have to try,” the man said, now quiet and respectful. “There must still be some good in him.  He saved me, before he had to.”

“Was it just to get at your lyrium stores?” Avexis asked, pointedly. “We were Tranquil, Maddox.  I know you see it logically.”  She stepped forward, “Something has been bothering me.  There was no sign of a pallet by your workbench, or anywhere else we searched for your things to maintain his armor.  Maddox, forgive me for being direct, but where did you sleep, while he had that fancy bed?”

Maddox flushed, “I’d rather not… discuss it.”

Avexis’ eyebrows knitted with concern. “Really?”

“Marie… understands. She made her own… choices.  To survive, she had to.”

“That is not a choice,” Avexis’ eyes were dark. “You were in no position to...”

“It doesn’t matter,” Maddox met her eyes with all seriousness. “He’s my friend.  He was my only friend, for years.  I’ve heard about your Regalyan.  Wouldn’t you want the chance to do the same, if he…”

“Regalyan was not the Templar in charge of Corypheus’ army,” Avexis said softly, “He was a healer, in no particular position of power, in the Montsimmard Circle. He acted as a guardian, not a master or lover.  In my experience, the more power someone has, the more they use those they see as beneath them.”  Her shoulders fell.  “Request denied, Maddox.  Stay here, with your sweetheart, and make a new life for yourselves.  Forget Samson.”  She continued on her way to Cullen’s tower, leaving Maddox bent and broken.

She opened his door, and slipped inside before Cullen turned back to Maddox. “We leave in four hours,” he informed him.  “See the armorer for a staff and robes, and refer them to me if you encounter trouble.”

Maddox’ despair fell away, “Thank you… Commander. You won’t regret this.”

“See that I don’t. I’ll make it right with the Inquisitor.  But you’re right about one thing,” he cleared his throat, “You are owed the chance to face your abuser.  The Inquisitor forgets that she had that – opportunity.”

“He wasn’t my abuser.”

“We’ll see how you feel about that when you see him again,” Cullen turned away to follow Avexis. “You may surprise yourself.” 

Avexis was waiting, facing the arrow slit in his office that faced the glacier valley. “You countermanded my order, didn’t you?”

“I did.” Cullen shifted, to close the door behind him, shoulders slumping, and hoping she wouldn’t argue.  “If you order me directly, of course, I will…”

“Non,” she turned and smiled, “I hoped you would. I wanted to give him a chance to trust you – the way I trust you.”  She came towards him and wrapped her arms around his chest.  “Cullen, I don’t want to send you to do this.”

“Now you know how I feel,” he laughed, and held her. “Sending you to face Corypheus…” he closed his eyes, concentrating on remembering the warmth of her body against his.  “I’m spending a lot of time in the shrine, lately, praying for your safety.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, “Not a bad idea. Later, maybe, when I can’t sleep for worry.”

Cullen took a deep breath, “Avexis… if we win…” he fumbled, unsure how to continue.

“You realize it’s Harvestmere?” She pulled away.  “It’s been a year, Cullen.  We’ve made progress.  We avoided the dark future in Redcliffe already – now we just have to make sure that it’s not just delayed.  I… I want to thank you.  For believing in me, for trusting me.  I know it was hard.  I made it difficult…”

“You make everything easier,” Cullen cupped her chin. “Everything.”  He bent and kissed her lips, reveling in the freedom to do so.  “And that future will never happen, even if I give my life to prevent it.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, “Cullen, don’t die.  Even if it means the difference between…”

“If I die in your service, I will wait for you in the Fade, until you join me,” Cullen whispered. “No doubt attracting every spirit of Patience on the other side, as I wait for you to live your long and happy life…”

“Not without you,” She shoved him slightly. “Never happy without you.”  She grabbed him again and clutched him tighter.  “You need to pack.”  She didn’t let go.

“Hard to pack like this,” he brushed his hand down her hair lightly, feeling the braid catch against his knitted gloves. “It’s not that I want to go, Ladybird.  You know that.  I wouldn’t ever leave you, given the choice.”

“I… almost believe you,” she whispered, and straightened, and ran her fingers up under his hair, “Kiss me then, and I’ll see you off at the gates as the Inquisitor should. And then I’ll see you in the Wilds, as we discussed.”

When their lips met, his slanted across hers, as if he could communicate all the thoughts that he couldn’t seem to make room for in their schedules, as if with tangled tongues he could make her understand the questions, and doubt, and longing for more – that intangible, indescribable desire that he couldn’t put into words. He didn’t know what, exactly, he wanted, afterward – if there ever were an after - just that she needed to be there.  He pressed his hand against her lower back, and she laughed into his mouth and pulled him down tighter against her.

They parted, panting and Avexis whispered, “I’ll have another when I see you again, oui?” He leaned his forehead against hers, and he thought of one more thing…

“Wait,” he held her waist. “I… I want you to promise me something.”  He felt the nervousness bead his nose with sweat.  “I have to – I need to ask.  I saw you, at the Temple of Dumat, when you turned into a bear.  You forgot yourself, for a moment.  You tried to bite a behemoth, and… love, I don’t think I could cope with you infected with lyrium.  Promise me you won’t shapeshift during the battle.  If something happens, and I don’t see you before you make your final push…”

Avexis frowned, “Commander… you’re asking a soldier to hobble themselves to set your mind at ease.”

“I wouldn’t ask this from anyone else,” he closed his eyes. “Just… please.”

Avexis hesitated, “I can’t make that promise, Cullen. There might be no other option.  I have to survive, to retrieve the Eluvian that Corypheus is hunting.”  He drooped, and she sighed, “It will be my last resort, however.  If I can manage without, I will.  Good enough?”

“It is.” He held her again, before letting her go.  “Better go.  I… I need to prepare, and you don’t have time to help me find my socks.”

Avexis winked, and dug in her bag. “Already done.  Two fresh pairs, fine merino, in red and gold, to match your cloak.”  He chuckled as she handed them over.  “Note how much better these look, if you will?  I am improving, Commander.”

“You amaze me,” he admitted and kissed her one more time. “Now go, or I’ll never be ready.”

She left, looking behind her until he finally turned away first. “My heart goes with you,” she called out, softly.

He closed his eyes, and “And mine stays here, with you.”

It seemed impossible that they would ever manage to be in the same place.


	63. Blood Ties and Blood Brothers

Avexis waited on the bench outside the Gull and Lantern, with a handful of daisies in her hands, trying not to listen to the conversation inside. The breeze off Lake Calenhad played with the leaves all around the village, making the dappled shadows dance.

The beauty wasn’t enough to stop the worry – there was more than enough worry to go around, even if Cullen hadn’t reached the Arbor Wilds yet. And knowing that Dorian’s abusive father was right behind her, and that she could do nothing but sit, and wait for her friend to decide what to do about him…

Had she always been this impatient? She plucked the petals from the flowers viciously.  Perhaps she should have gone with Solas and Varric, following Cole’s sixth sense… but Dorian didn’t have anyone with him.

She heard the door shut with a whump, and she dropped the flowers, letting them scatter into the dust of the road as she spun to face her friend. Dorian approached, still alone, and now bent like a man defeated.  Avexis waited for him to say something.  He remained quiet, and so she spoke instead.  “Are you all right?”

“No.” Her friend, usually so loquacious, bit off the single word.

“Can I help?”

“And how would you help?”

“Someone told me once I was good at escaping traps and killing everyone. Say the word if you’ve need of my talents.”

Dorian laughed, bitter. “We’re too much alike, he says.  Too much pride.”  He curled his lip, “Once I would have loved to hear that, but now…” he stared at his immaculate boots.  “What you must think of me.”

“Dorian…” Avexis smiled, “I think you’re very brave.”

“Brave, is it?” Dorian mused. “Hmm.  Do go on?” His chuckle died in his throat.  “I don’t know about that.  Is it bravery, what I did?  Or just...” he didn't finish.

“You did what you said you would, in Crestwood,” Avexis pressed. “You confronted him, and came out stronger for it.  Like I did, with Pierre.”

“Only with a bit less bloodshed,” quipped Dorian. “I figured there had been enough blood on his…” his words faltered.  “Too soon, I think.”

“Too soon,” Avexis took his arm. “Come on.  Solas and Varric will be bickering over Cole.  You can wait, and snark, while we try to figure out why Cole needed to come here.”  She sighed, “It’s already been a long day.  If only the damn amulet had worked.”

Dorian patted her arm. “As much fun as that sounds, Bella, if you don’t mind, I think… I think I’ll go back to camp.  I don’t want to linger in Redcliffe with my father at the Inn.  One confrontation is enough for me.  Not that he’s likely to… remain long, since I’ve refused to return with him, but…”

Avexis nodded, but placed her hand over his. “Dorian – be gentle with yourself.  And take the unicorn.  She’ll get you back faster, so you can… think.”

His face crumpled, “Don’t… don’t make me break down in public, bella donna. I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Go then.” She, on an impulse, embraced him, and Dorian froze in her arms before wrapping his own around her gently.  Dorian pulled away, towards the stables, and Avexis turned back towards the Chantry, where she could already hear Solas’ raised voice, arguing with Varric, just behind the copse of bushes that shielded the lake from view.

She approached with caution, and found Cole looming over a man, accusing him of… “Wait,” her voice broke, “How could he have killed you, if you’re here?”

“I came through,” Cole whispered. “Guts griping in the dank dark, he died.  I came through, to hold his hand… he didn’t want to be alone.  I could help.”

Avexis shivered, “I don’t understand, Cole. How…”

Solas sneered. “You can’t possibly be considering allowing him to kill the man!  He is Compassion.  It would counter his purpose, corrupt him… he has to forgive.”

“You’re asking the Kid to forgive the man who murdered him,” Varric drawled. “Bit much, don’t you think?”

“Not for a spirit,” Solas countered immediately. “He can forget.”

“But he came here to be more like people,” Varric pointed out, all too reasonably. “You’ve got to let him be human.”

“What does Cole think?” Avexis asked, timidly.

“Let me kill him,” Cole stepped towards the man. “You killed him.  And he didn’t kill you first!” Cole looked back at Avexis, eyes angry.  “He killed me first!  I want to kill him back!”

Avexis closed her eyes, remembering Pierre. “Varric…” she began.  “We can’t let him kill him.  Even if he does deserve it.  Solas is right, he’s Compassion…”

Varric’s eyes twinkled, “I got this,” he stepped forward, and she noted his weapon was unloaded as he pressed it into Cole’s hands. “Go on, Kid,” he urged.  “Take him out.”  Cole raised Bianca slowly, and aimed, and pulled the trigger, only to have it click.  Cole dropped it, and Varric caught it.  “Revenge wouldn’t make you feel better, Kid,” Varric told him.  “The guilt… it’s never worth it.”

Cole met her eyes, troubled. “It helped the Inquisitor.”

“Not the same thing. Pierre, he was already dying, right?  The red lyrium had him.  But this guy – he forgot you because of the lyrium, right?” Varric offered.  “It wasn’t malicious.  You don’t want to be mean.  You don’t want to be that kind of person.”

Cole slumped, his shoulders rolling forward. “I… I don’t want to be like him.”

“And you’re not.”

Cole raised his hand, faced the man, and started to say, “Forget…”

But Varric pressed his arm down. “No.  No, he needs to remember.  And so do you.  It’s an important part of being human, remembering.”  He turned the man away.  “Come on, Kid.  You’ll… learn how to cope.  I’ll help.”

Solas turned and walked away, without words, and Avexis shivered. 

Another wedge between her and the Fade Elf, but she should be used to it by now.

 

 

_< EotD>_

 

The humidity in the Arbor Wilds stuck in Cullen’s lungs like a disease, making it difficult to take a deep breath. “Wonder what’s it like in summer, eh?” Rylen cackled to his right.  “Poor Fereldan lad, not used to thick air… ought to take you to Starkhaven sometime.  This is like home, only… hot.”

“Stuff it, Rylen, I lived in Kirkwall for nearly a decade. I can handle it,” Cullen nodded at where Maddox sat huddled, his eyes dark.  “How’s he doing?”

“Quiet. Has nightmares,” Rylen admitted.  “Whatever he says, something’s happened to him in the last few years to shake him up in the middle of the night.  Even though he knows he can’t be possessed now. ‘Course, I’m awake too, remembering a thousand things best forgotten, so I can’t judge.”  He shuddered, “Don’t know how you managed this.  Cassie said I’m doing fine, but…"

Cullen choked, “Cassie? You aren’t referring to the Seeker of Truth, Lady of Nevarra, former Right Hand of the Divine, Cassandra Pentaghast, are you?”

“She likes it,” Rylen smirked. “She likes lots of things, it turns out.  Not so buttoned up, as your little elf friend might say.”

“Sweet Maker, Rylen. I really don’t want to hear this,” Cullen ordered, turning back to the camp, feeling his ears turn hot with embarrassment.

“You sure about that? Because I’m willing to share,” Rylen offered.  “Set up this little woodland arbor, had that damned naughty book all ready, flower garlands strung between the trees, wine, cheese and sweets, and damn if she didn’t jump me.”  He grinned, “Long time coming.”  His face fell, “’Course, word is, she’s gonna be made Divine, if the Inquisitor backs her.  That’ll put an end to things.”

“Why?” Cullen scoffed openly. “A Divine and a third-rate Templar are no more outlandish than an ex-Templar and a Necromancing Shapeshifter who used to be Tranquil.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Rylen laughed, shaking his head. “Never thought about it quite like that.”   He frowned, “Third-rate?”

“Besides,” Cullen continued, “If I remember my Chantry studies well enough, the Right Hand of the Divine is reserved for a member of the Templar Order. Know anyone who might put in a good word for you?”

Rylen laughed, uncomfortably. “You’re talking like it’s a done thing.”

Cullen shrugged, “It depends whether Avexis backs someone specifically or not.”

Rylen snorted, “Listen to you. ‘Josie’.  ‘Leliana’.  And you with your ‘Avexis’, not the Inquisitor… on such familiar terms.  Who are you, farmer boy, to hobnob with the rich and mighty?”

Cullen snickered. “I’ll be sure to tell ‘Cassie’ that, next time I see her.  Does the Lady Cassandra Pentaghast know she’s rolling in the hay with a bricklayer’s son?”

“I got the impression she rather liked the ‘rolling’ part, at least,” Rylen countered.

“Then who are we?” Cullen shrugged. “Doesn’t matter in the least, if it doesn’t matter to them.”  He cleared his throat, “But… all the same, I’m glad that my girl doesn’t have a relative sitting on the throne of Nevarra.  That’s… a bit much for me to bite off, my friend.  Braver man than I.”

“Eh, it’s all the same sort of butt,” Rylen’s eyes twinkled, “Only hers is better than most. That arse, right?”

“Can’t say I’ve looked.” Cullen stretched.

“All to the better. I’d have to kill you then.”  Rylen nudged him.  “Back to work, eh?”

“As if you could. And there’s always something to do, when you’re waiting.”

 

 

_< EotD>_

 

 

Avexis sat at the large wheel Josie had ordered for her after the loss of the spinning wheels she’d recovered from the Fallow Mire, her foot rocking as she sent the wool spinning into yarn.

Next to her foot, a large basket of red, gold, and purple spindles sat ready to be wound into balls, but she kept going.

Cassandra watched from her sofa, leaning forward. “I think you have enough yarn to last until the next Age.  Perhaps you should use some of it up?”

“I can’t stop,” Avexis hissed. “He’s out there, in danger, with Samson.  He’s looking for him – and…”

“So, the sock is on the other foot, as it were. Do you think he worries less with you?”

“No, of course not,” she denied, foot still rocking, and the wheel whirring. “But… it’s usually not me sitting still.  It’s easier to be the active one, n’est-ce pas?  Aren’t you worried for Rylen?”

Cassandra snorted, “The Knight-Captain can take care of himself…”

That made Avexis look up. “Cassandra, have you, or have you not, seen the man naked? Once you’ve seen the naughty bits, titles seem a bit much.”

Cassandra flushed. “Perhaps.  But we are being… discreet.  Until after the Chantry makes its decision.”

Avexis wrinkled her nose, “Silly. The other major contenders are hardly chaste.  Leliana has two lovers, for the Maker’s sake.  And Vivienne was a mistress for decades.”

“True enough,” corrected the warrior, flushing. “But Rylen agrees, that we should… be careful.  For now.”  Her eyes softened.  “But I could be less… cautious around you.  He is…” she sighed, involuntarily.  “I miss him, I suppose.”

Avexis giggled, “Doesn’t that feel better? And I don’t think your face cracked even a little, admitting it!”

Cassandra narrowed her eyes. “Be still.”

“And she blushes,” Dorian proclaimed from the top of the stairs. “Don’t tell me, Cassandra, that even you were unable to stop our darling girl from spinning until her fingers bled?”

Avexis let go of her thread with one hand and showed her fingertips. “Callouses.”

Dorian’s nose wrinkled. “So much for elegant hands.”

Avexis rolled her eyes. “No one expects an elf to have soft white hands.”  She continued spinning for a little while, but slowed down a little.  “It’s easier to keep myself busy.  I’ve been packed for days, waiting for news.”

“You could just leave and surprise the man,” Dorian tried.

“And risk Samson fleeing?” Avexis shook her head. “Non.  This is too important.”

“Then stay at a safe distance, until his mission is accomplished,” Cassandra tried. “We could easily start, and stay in the Dales, until…”

“Leliana thinks…” Avexis abruptly stopped spinning, breaking off the yarn, and wrapping it around the now full spindle, and dropping it into the overflowing basket.

“You are the Inquisitor. And our troops are already marching.  Who is Samson more likely to flee from?  You?  Or your army?”

Avexis pressed her lips together. “Very well,” she admitted.  “We’ll leave tomorrow.  Kiss Bull good-bye, Dorian.”

“He’s not coming with?”

“The Chargers stay here,” Avexis ordered. “I won’t leave Skyhold unguarded.  This could be a feint.  Non, you two, Cole, and Solas are coming with me into the Temple, when we find it.  Everyone else fights with the army.”  She faced her wheel, now slowly coming to a complete stop.

“Solas? You can’t be serious,” Dorian’s lip curled.

“Morrigan isn’t the only expert at the Ancient Elvhen,” Avexis cleared her throat. “I know it will be… uncomfortable.”

Dorian snorted, “I’ll fight with the troops, thank you. Solas has been unbearable since we returned from Redcliffe.  No, before that.  Since the Exalted Plains.  I’m not going anywhere with him and Morrigan, that doesn’t involve a great deal of alcohol. It will be dueling lectures, each trying to seem smarter than the other.”

Cassandra hit the mage’s arm. “You are either immature or a coward. I can’t decide,” she scolded. 

“I prefer to define it as practical self-defense,” he corrected, rubbing his arm.  “As fascinating as the Elvhen are, I have no desire to be lectured by either an elf with a chip on his shoulder, or a self-satisfied apostate for weeks on end.”

“Solas goes,” Avexis stated firmly, and rose. “Dorian, you are welcome to either stay here, or continue on with us.  I’ll go tell Josie and Leliana now.  We’ve waited long enough.”

“Too long, I’d say,” Cassandra muttered.

“Créateur, I hope you’re wrong,” Avexis paled, and walked a little faster. “But perhaps we should leave tonight.”

 


	64. Risks and Red Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know, I'm terrible. Truth is, with the mess of the long holiday weekend, I didn't get the chapter over to iduna to go over until *gasp* yesterday. She came through with her usual grace and skill. But unfortunately, that means you only get one chapter this week.
> 
> We'll resume our usual posting schedule on Monday.
> 
> Holidays hijack my life. /end Scrooge Grump
> 
> And... on top of all that I posted the wrong version. Need more coffee. Read it again, please!

It had been weeks of tracking Samson further into the Wilds, and weeks of him avoiding the Inquisition’s troops with entirely too much skill. “This isn’t working,” Cullen admitted, staring blankly at the all-too large map of the Wilds in front of him.  “Maddox… I don’t think he knows you’re here.”

“How the bloody Void would he know?” Maddox stood, fists clenched. “Your spymaster wouldn’t let me send him so much as a letter.  He probably thinks I’m dead.”

“Then let him send a damn letter,” Rylen smacked Cullen in his chestplate. “Look, we’ve got to take a few risks, here, if we’re going to get anywhere.  Read it first.  But we don’t have time for the sort of feints the Nightingale would suggest, letting fake mail get intercepted and so on.  We have to act.”  Rylen pointed at the latest missive from Leliana – one of many spread out over the makeshift trestle table.  “Your girl is on her way.”  Maddox choked off a laugh, but Cullen ignored him.  “Either we give up, and reconcile ourselves to killing the bastard first chance we see him – and I’m good with that, he fucking deserves it - or we take a bloody risk.  Your call.  You are, after all, the Commander.”

Cullen glared at Rylen, and then sighed. He glanced away from their makeshift command center, watching a red bird hop along the edge of the clearing, pecking at something it found there.  It came down to trust.  Trusting Maddox, trusting mages, who had so often been on the other side of everything.  He closed his eyes, praying that he was a different man now.  “The Inquisitor let my order stand, so she trusts you.  Send your letter, Maddox.”  He turned back, fists clenched and menacing, “But if you put the Inquisitor, or any of the Inquisition at risk, you will deal with the consequences.  And me.”

“What, are you going to make me Tranquil?” Maddox snorted.

“No,” Cullen smiled, all his teeth showing. “I’ll see you tried, and hanged, like any other traitor.”

“Excepting Blackwall,” Rylen coughed. “And Butler.  And…”

“Shut it, Knight-Captain,” Cullen’s lips twitched.

“Just saying, your girl didn’t even order that bastard Erimond – “

“The Inquisitor is considering Tranquility for the magister,” Cullen fiddled with the hilt of his sword. Maddox’s eyes widened.

Rylen whistled, “Didn’t think she…”

“She knows the cost. If she uses it, she knows better than everyone,” Cullen rubbed the back of his neck.  “Erimond’s no innocent.  It’s death, or Tranquility.  She’s only kept him in prison this long so she can come to grips with the consequences of either decision.”

“Death is the merciful option,” Maddox offered, voice small.

"I'm pretty sure she's not feeling very merciful toward Erimond right now."  Cullen sighed, and shoved the inkwell towards him, ready to change the subject. “You can use any raven we have.  Don’t make me regret this.”

 

_< EotD>_

 

The letter arrived two days later, crumpled and wrinkled like it had been thrown away several times before sent on. “He wants to meet,” Maddox informed him, handing Cullen the scrawling, dirty parchment.  “He doesn’t believe me.”

“Meet whom, exactly?” Rylen’s eyes narrowed as he looked over Cullen’s shoulder.  “And what’s not to believe?  You’re here, aren’t you?”

“He doesn’t believe that I’m here because I asked to be, and he doesn't believe I'm not still Tranquil,” the mage twisted the fabric of his robes back and forth, back and forth. “He says I’m being used.  Again.”

“What are you going to do now?” Cullen grunted in frustration, “You aren’t our prisoner, Maddox.”

The mage’s eyes widened, “I’m not?”

“You aren’t. Yes, you’re being watched, because we’re not idiots.  And because you aren’t a member of the Inquisition.  We don’t know your allegiances.  If you choose to betray us, and rejoin Corypheus, then…”

Maddox shuddered. “No.  No, I… I have no loyalty to Corypheus.  My debt is to Samson alone.”

Cullen nodded once, “What do you need then?”

“Come with me,” the mage swallowed, his next words belying the fear choking his words. “I’m not afraid of Samson.  He’d never hurt me.  He- cares for me, in his way.  I’m all he had to keep him – anchored, aside from the lyrium.”  Maddox smoothed the paper, eyes dark and lined.  “He cried over this.  See the drops?”

There were drops – slightly pinkish, smearing the ink even more into near illegibility. Samson’s handwriting had deteriorated from the time he’d shared a room with Cullen.  Shaking hands – Cullen knew all too well why.

“Rain,” snorted Rylen. “Samson never cried over anything.”

Cullen closed his eyes, “It hasn’t rained here once since we arrived.”

“Dew, then,” Rylen countered. “Or sweat…”

Cullen huffed, impatient with Rylen’s mistrust, but knowing it was probably well-founded. “All right.  I’ll go with you, Maddox.  We’ll meet where he says, when he says, as long as he guarantees it will just be him.  I’ll have Leliana’s scouts go ahead – make sure we’re alone.”

“Thank you,” Maddox grasped his arm quickly, pulling out another sheet of paper from under Cullen’s paperweight, with too easy familiarity. “Tomorrow night, in this clearing,” he flipped the original letter over, to reveal a rudimentary map.  “There.”  He pointed.

“It’s a trap, Commander,” Rylen warned.

“Of course, it's a trap.  That’s why you’ll be watching, with my spyglass,” Cullen assured him, “Ready to take over if it fails.” He grinned, “And save my ass, if I need it, of course.”  Rylen looked at Maddox pointedly.  “His, too, Rylen.  We didn’t go through all the trouble of Curing his condition just to throw him back to the wolves.”

 Rylen gave an odd grin.  "His I can understand, he's the bait.  Why would I save yours?"

Cullen smiled broadly and said, "If I die, you have to tell Avexis.  Even your Seeker couldn't save you."

"In that case, you'll be as safe as a babe in arms, my friend."  Rylen laughed and Cullen joined in, Maddox looking from one to the other as if he were surrounded by lunatics.

 

_< EotD>_

 

Cullen shifted, arms folded. He was shivering – the shadows were long, and there was a brisk breeze that chilled his sweat against his skin, but he wasn’t overly cold.  Samson was late, and they’d been waiting too long.  But Maddox needed to decide when to give up, not him.

At least there were no signs of an ambush. There was just… nothing. 

Maddox stared at his feet, eyes wide. Cullen didn’t like the pain he saw in them.  “He’s not coming,” the mage blurted out at last.  “We should just…”

A rangy man stepped out from the trees, all silvered shaggy hair and tired eyes, dressed in armor that hummed, even from a distance, and glowed malevolently in the dusk of night. “Commander,” he sneered at first, but his face gentled.  “Maddox.  Are you…” he didn’t finish his sentence, but his eyes roamed the other man nervously.  “You don’t seem unwell.  If he’s fucking hurt you…”

“I am well, Samson,” Maddox took a step forward. “Thank you for meeting us.”

“It’s true, then,” Samson covered his eyes. “They reversed your Rite.”

“I am… myself again. Yes.”

“And Marie? Does she…”

“She’s back at Skyhold,” Maddox smiled involuntarily. “She was a fool for waiting this long.  But I’m thankful for her folly.”  He wiped his cheek with the palm of his hand.  “Come back with us,” he blurted out.  “You don’t believe in Corypheus’ cause.  I know you don’t.  You’re doing it for the lyrium, that’s all.  It doesn’t have to be like this.  The Commander has…”

Samson barked a disdainful laugh. “I’m only here to make sure you’re all right, my friend.  I have no intention of abandoning my Order, unlike the traitor you stand beside.”

Cullen bristled. “I left the Order when the Order left its path! We were supposed to be protectors, Samson, not…”

“You really believe that? You really believe that they didn’t chain us, use us up, and then discard us when they were finished?”  Samson sneered.  “Well, aren’t you high and mighty these days?  Does your doxy know how many mages you killed when you couldn’t be sure they weren’t abominations?  Does she know what happened at Kinloch?”

“She is not my doxy. She is the Inquisitor,” Cullen clenched his teeth.  “And she knows everything.  I’ve told her.  All of it.”  He didn’t drop his eyes.  Samson’s reddish glare bored into his, sparking the end of his nerves, and the headache began – along with the strange, nauseated craving that he dreaded.

Maddox took another step forward. “The Commander isn’t taking lyrium, my friend.  It doesn’t have to be like this.  Come with us.”

Cullen stared, unaware that anyone had shared that detail with the ex-Tranquil. “Maddox, don’t…” he tried to stop him from continuing.

“There’s hope,” the man stressed. “Lyrium addiction doesn’t have to be a death sentence, Samson!”  He took another step forward.  “You could…”

“There’s no hope for me,” Samson snarled, and turned his back. “Stay with your fancy new friends, then, safe and happy.  Tell Marie I wish you both joy.  I serve Corypheus.  He’s chosen me to be his Vessel.  There’s a higher calling for me now.”

“No…” Maddox stumbled forward, tripping over a root in his path, reaching out. “Samson, don’t do this…”

“I already have,” Samson paused at the entrance of the jungle. “Your Inquisitor is too late.  We’ve already found the Temple.  She’ll never reach us in time.  We’ve only to find a way in.”  The man disappeared into the forest, the plants unmoving around him. 

It took a few moments, as the insistent thrumming receded from his head, for Cullen to realize the mage was crying, silent tears running down his chin. “He wouldn’t listen,” Maddox bowed his head.  “Why wouldn’t he…”

“He’s too far gone. Red lyrium – has the Blight.  He’s dying, not from the lyrium, but from that.” Cullen shook his head.  “We should get back to camp.”  Maddox followed, looking back.  “Maddox… I am sorry.  I wish-” he stopped, unwilling to lie.

“Thank you, Commander,” Maddox stared downward. “I thought he’d listen.” 

Cullen’s update to the Inquisitor that night took far too long to write, given its brevity.

 

 

> _M failed. They’ve found what they were looking for. Attacking at dawn, as discussed._
> 
> _Yours,_
> 
> _C._

He sat over his desk for several minutes, staring unseeing at the impersonal message, before whistling for Silky, and attaching it, only to whisk it off again, and scribble another line, feeling like a fool while he did it.

 

 

> _I love you._

Somehow, that felt like the most important thing to communicate, the night before the end of everything.

 


	65. Saviors, Socks, and Will to Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I thought for a while this wouldn't go up until tomorrow, but I'm making time out of this crazy-busy summer, because my writing keeps me sane when I'm having to deal with abstract busy-ness.
> 
> If anyone cares to sell me any downtime, I'll take it.

Avexis rode into the main encampment, looking around her with wide eyes at the mostly empty tents, the shrine, the Empress with her attendants, the general sense of chaos, all surrounded by ballistae and other war machines – even though there was hardly anyone left to protect. “What the hell is going on?”  She demanded of Josie.  “Cullen’s note… someone should still be here, n’est-ce pas?  Where is the Commander?  Or Rylen, for that matter?  Where is everyone?”

“I will find out, Inquisitor,” Josie scurried off towards the Empress’ tent.

Leliana had already drifted towards the small group of her forward scouts, led by Scout Harding. “Report!” The spymaster ordered, and Avexis followed.  If there was information to be had, Harding would have it.

“Three days ago, the Commander and Maddox met up secretly with Samson. Samson refused to defect, despite… everything.” The Scout shifted awkwardly.  “The day after, we attacked, and we’ve been fighting ever since.  The Commander led troops into the front lines, looking for Samson, I think.  But with different intentions than before.”  The usually forthright Scout wouldn’t meet her eyes.  “The Orlesian army arrived yesterday, and reinforced our lines, as his instructions indicated.”

“Maker preserve me,” Avexis murmured. “He hasn’t been back?  He’s been fighting non-stop?”

“All but,” the Scout agreed. “We’ve been tracking their progress – Samson told him they’d already found the Temple of Mythal.  We’ve been pressing further into the Wilds.  We located the Temple itself early this morning.  That’s the only reason we’re in camp - to make copies of the map, and send them to the Commander and the other fronts.  The ravens left half an hour ago – they should have them right about now.”  The woman climbed up on a box, and grabbed a map, spreading it out on the table.  “There,” she pointed to a spot just past a river ford.  “The Commander will head in that direction – assuming he gets the map.”

“Excellently done,” Leliana complimented. “So… what’s our move?”

“Where are the Empress’ troops?” Avexis cut off the Scout before she could answer.

“Here,” the Scout pointed to an X on the map. “Our second barricade.  It’s holding, barely.  They have two fronts – one to find their way into the Temple – that has to be where Corypheus and Samson are.  The walls are high, and while the doors seem unguarded, we didn’t want to risk getting in too deep, only to find our retreat blocked.  But the rest of their forces are concentrating on delaying our forward movement.  They don’t want us to catch up with a big force, by my best guess.”  She bit her lip.  “We’ve been taking out encampments as we find them, but they’ve got them tucked into nooks and crannies like mice in the walls.  Twenty Templars here, a half dozen Wardens there, and… some odd elves are attacking both sides.”

“Elves?” Avexis blinked. “Dalish?”

“Definitely not Dalish, Inquisitor,” Harding hesitated. “They’re dressed like those statues.  You know the ones?  Like something out of a history book.”

Avexis glanced at Solas, who wasn’t reacting in the slightest. “Anyone have any ideas?”

“Old enchantments, protections from the Temple,” Solas closed his mouth, but then continued. “It is a good sign, if such are still active.  Perhaps we aren’t too late.”

Harding snorted, “No offense, Solas, but these elves aren’t made of magic. They’re as flesh and blood as you or me.  And my arrows kill them just as dead.  They’re just better dressed than most of Briala’s people.”

“And have they succeeded in breaching the Temple?” Leliana pressed.

“Not as of our last word,” Harding assured her.

As if timed, there was a massive boom that shook the ground underneath them, and made the Empress curse from a distance, in fluid, elegant Orlesian. Avexis grinned, and bowed politely in respect.  Scout Harding continued, as if never interrupted, “But those explosions are happening a lot.  They’re going to get in, soon enough.  There’s no time to waste.”

“A small forward team, just as we discussed, then?” Avexis asked Leliana.

“And I’ll take everyone we have left out to fight,” Leliana confirmed. “We won’t waste the trail the Commander’s broken for us.”

“It’s now or never,” Avexis took a breath, and laughed, nervously, “Would have liked a good night’s sleep, but no rest for the wicked?” She rolled her neck, “We leave in an hour then,” she announced loudly.  “Maker be with you all.”

“And with you, Inquisitor,” Scout Harding chirped, and turned away to the raven cages. “I’ll send the Commander notice.  There’s a chance he’ll get it.”  Her shoulders bent.  “We’ve been losing a lot of ravens, Sister Nightingale.  Sorry about that.”

“So am I,” the Sister sighed. “We all do what we must.”

“The ravens understand the risk,” Avexis assured them both. “Just like your scouts, they’re members of the Inquisition.”

Leliana narrowed her eyes in calculation. “It was you, wasn’t it?  That day?  I haven’t seen that raven since…”

Avexis winked, glad she was able to distract the spymaster from her brooding. “Let a lady keep her secrets, Sister Nightingale.” 

 

_< EotD>_

 

Cullen fought like a man who had everything to lose. Rylen sat on the ground behind him, battered and blood-spattered, but with his eyes focused and sharp, still watching his back, despite his injuries. 

Two nights had passed, but he’d quit trying to check the position of the sun. The enemy was too relentless to track the passage of time – and it seemed that the darkness barely hindered them.  Rylen had all but fallen in the early morning, and the Templar needed a healer who seemed unlikely to appear out of thin air, from where he lay against the broken bridge’s arch.

Making sure that his friend was out of the tepid water was all that he could do for him.

Cullen would give a great deal to die with dry feet. Avexis’ latest pair of gift socks were beyond ruined.  And he was going to die here - they’d left the battle too late, trying to redeem a man who never wished to be redeemed. 

Another boom echoed from the forest before him, and he slipped on a slippery water rock, just submerged, sliding to one knee with a muffled curse, just as the next Red Templar lifted his sword for another run at them.  He raised his own shield, and prepared to parry.

Out of the forest on the far side of the river Avexis emerged like a goddess, her hair floating and sparking in the evening light.

His heart leapt up. All wasn’t lost.  She was here.  “For the Inquisitor!” He roared, and took advantage of his lower position to cut his opponent tendons in the back of his knees – a weak point in the Templar armor.  He’d never thought he would use his knowledge quite like this, but… they were all doing what must be done.

His men – what remained of them – cheered wildly, with the last of their breath.

“Commander!” Rylen warned, and he pivoted, feeling from the thrum of the lyrium that another was trying to flank him. He parried the man’s sword, stepping back, giving ground he couldn’t afford to lose.

If he wasn’t careful, he would end up with the bridge at his back, and they would be able to surround him. And he couldn’t leave Rylen vulnerable…

He felt Avexis gather her magic, exhaustion heightening his senses, as she stepped out towards the broken bridge. “Out of the water,” she ordered, her voice hoarse, but clear, and Cullen glanced upward, eyes widening before he jumped up on an outcropping, knocking another enemy down as he moved, so that they struggled, face down, partially submerged in heavy armor in the water.  Her hair rose, wild and static, and she cast – first a cage, to trap his foes, and then lightning to jump and arc, traveling through the water and damaging and delaying every opponent nearby – their own people safely on dry land.  The noise was deafening – the air smelled of ozone and the hairs on his arm rose with the electricity of her personal power.  “Are you well, Commander?”  Her hair still floated, but it was his Ladybird’s eyes that held his for a long moment.  “Rylen’s injured!”

Cullen didn’t answer, just thrust through the now stunned Templar, fighting his blade free of the man’s ribs. “Keep moving!” He finally managed.  “We’ll hold this position!” 

Cassandra darted between them, heading for Rylen, dragging off the other man’s helm, and checking for injuries. “What did you do to yourself now, fool?”  She grunted, and Rylen laughed, then moaned.

“Good to see you, too, lass. And I didn’t trip on my own sword.”

“This time,” Cassandra qualified, and did something to make him grunt. “I can’t leave you alone, can I?”

“No more you should.”

“You’re overwhelmed,” Avexis contradicted, drawing Cullen’s attention back to herself. She drew her staff, and placed herself at his side.  “You need my aid!”

“No, we aren’t, Inquisitor. We’re fine.”  It was true, with her assistance, his men had overcome, and the Templars were toppling like ninepins, still stunned from her spells.  Maker, she was dangerous.  “Go.  Corypheus waits.  The Temple is just beyond the next rise.”

She turned, and faced him. His eyes tracked her face behind her cowl, tired, like all of them, but soft with concern. “Commander,” she touched his chest and sighed.  He wished he could feel it.  “Bon Chance, then.  Je t’aime?”

“Je t’aime,” he muttered hoarsely, stepping back and feeling his ankle twist on the uneven ground. “Go.”  He winced, and rolling her eyes, she dug in her bag, and handed him two spindleweed potions.

“Crack them open on the rocks, and let them disperse into the air. Rylen needs one, and you need enough stamina to last until I get back,” she instructed.  “And here…” she opened her pouch – the waterproof one that she kept her maps in - and pressed a bundle of wool into his hands.  “You’ll need these, when they’re all dead.  Finished them on the march.”  She touched his cheek again and smiled.  “I’ll come back,” she promised.  “You’d better have dry feet before I see you again.”

He nodded, stunned more than the last of the Templars, and watched while she Fadestepped across the creek, her outline blurring with her speed.

Rylen, coughed a laugh as Cassandra, cursing, took a moment to glare at him, and kiss him through her helm, before shoving his own helm back on his head, running after her friend, splashing through the stream in full armor, cursing the day Avexis was born as she tried to catch up. “Did your girl just deliver you dry socks in the middle of a fucking battle?”

Cullen looked down at the tidy bundle in his hand, and flushed. “Apparently so.”

Rylen’s helm clanked against the stone behind him. “Shit, Cullen, if you don’t marry that girl, you’ll regret it forever.”

Cullen grinned. “Perhaps you’re right.”  He tucked the bundle into his breastplate, close to his heart.  “There might be time to think about that later.  Now that we’re not going to die…” he stopped speaking, knowing that it was too soon to count on the Inquisitor living.  “No, it’s too soon to think of such things.”  He stared off into the distance, where she had disappeared into a dark tunnel, even the light from her mark swallowed by the gloom.  “For her the battle is just starting.”

“I’m always fucking right,” Rylen contradicted, and held out his hand. “Give me the fucking potion.  Cassie would tell me I've done enough sitting around for one day.” 

 

_< EotD>_

 

Avexis’ mind whirled, dizzy with the heat of the red lyrium, and the noise of the false archdemon, and the knowledge that there were Elvhen – honest to Mythal living Elvhen – in the Temple that bore her name. “This has been a very strange day,” she told Samson, as he stared across the flowing water at her, seemingly just as fatigued as she was.

“Weird elfy puzzles, ancient fucking elves, and the apostate turning into a bird – which, bluntly, I should have seen coming, she’s been plotting since we got here – and flying toward a fucking Well. All that, after killing my way through a lovely jungle and delivering a pair of socks – desperately needed – to Cullen.  And then I see an ancient Darkspawn Magister die, after running headlong into some old Elvhen wards, only to possess the body of some random Grey Warden – poor ass.  They won’t be building a monument to him anytime soon…  That on top of seeing Fen’Harel statues in the Temple of Mythal, and running argument between the elfiest elf I’ve ever met, and an apostate that thinks she knows more than he does.  Though she was right about this place.  Mostly.  I’ve yet to see an Eluvian.”

“An Eluvvy-what?” Samson blinked.

“Exactly. I’m not sure what kind of idiocy you’re going to put me through next, but I’m having a hard time imagining how you’re going to top that shit.  What’s it going to be, Samson?  Pulling a nug out of your ass sounds about right, and Maker knows I could use the laugh right about now.”

Samson only blinked at her again.

She wanted nothing more than just to sit down. “Nothing?  After all that, I get silence?”  Avexis sighed, “So… I heard you talked to Cullen and Maddox?”  She drew her staff, resigned.  There was no hope to avoid a fight, but she was so very tired.  “Pardon, je suis creve,” she sighed.

“You’re tired?” Samson snorted, but he seemed much the same.  His armor pulsed unevenly.  “You haven’t been marching through the jungle for days, fighting like berserkers.”

“True enough,” There was no point in dragging it out. She held up the rune, “Our Arcanist made us this.  Maddox didn’t help,” she assured him.  “I don’t know what’s between you, but I don’t really care, either.”  She sighed.  “I’m so very tired of killing people.”  Half kidding, she suggested, “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in surrendering?”

Samson stared at the rune. “What’ll it do?”

“Break your armor,” Avexis answered, as Cassandra hissed a warning. “What, Cassandra?  Him knowing won’t stop it.”  She rolled her neck.  “It already doesn’t look so good.  Neither do you, Samson, to be honest.”  The circles under his eyes were worse than Cullen’s had ever been.  A side effect of lyrium usage, she would guess.  Or perhaps lack of sleep.

“Go ahead then,” Samson nodded at the rune. “Use it.”

“What, now?” Avexis laughed at him.  “You haven’t even drawn your sword.  How is that a fair fight?”

“Do it,” Samson closed his eyes. “Your Commander – Maddox said he was - clean.  That he’s stopped taking lyrium.  And he’s obviously not dead.  So the Chantry lied.  Again.  Break the armor, and we’ll see how deep the lie goes.”  He barked a laugh, “Maybe my curiosity is greater than my will to live.”

“I don’t know if it will kill you or not,” Avexis admitted. “Dagna has cleansing runes.  They fight corruption caused by red lyrium and the Blight, but… well, as Varric would say, you’re pretty far gone.  A cleansing like that might kill you.”

Cassandra snorted, “Does it matter?” 

Samson stared at her, dull-eyed. “I’m supposed to be Corypheus’ Vessel.  Drink the well, take back the knowledge to my Master.  But… for what?  To recreate a world I’ll never live in?  To be the slave of mages and magisters until I die, grotesque and oblivious?  Sooner rather than later, I’d wager.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” Samson coughed. “You’re right.  Without Maddox to maintain my armor, I’m dead.  I’m going the way of Meredith, soon enough.  Red statue in the courtyard – only nowhere near as central as the Gallows.  I’ll crystalize here, in the middle of Bloody Nowhere Temple, forgotten and alone.”  He coughed, sour.  “And no, I don’t care.  Corypheus – he doesn’t need me to be his Vessel, he’d do it himself, if he could.  Don’t know why he can’t, either.  I’m just a pawn.  Another way to get used.”  He blinked.  “So, break the armor, knock me down, let me drown in here, for that matter – always heard drowning was a good way to die.  Least this way I can fucking choose.”

Avexis lifted the rune. “I’ll break the armor,” her voice shook.  “But Maddox didn’t want you to die, Samson.  He begged for the chance to come and talk to you first.  We delayed everything to give him that chance…”

“He’s well enough without me now.” Samson shifted awkwardly.  “He’s a good man.  Honest, even before he had to be.  The idiot told Meredith that the letters were his – confessed outright, hoping she’d go easy on him.  Didn’t matter, in the end.  We both got made examples of, right?”  He coughed again.  “Just… do it, Inquisitor.  Kill me, go back to your Knight-Captain,” he sneered when she didn’t act.  “What’s stopping you?”

“He’s not a Knight-Captain. He’s a Commander – my Commander.  And what’s stopping me – that would be Compassion,” she glanced at Cole, his mutters getting louder as he approached.  “I think you know him?”

Cole walked around the man, intent and listening. “The Templars are lost,” he mourned.  “Words grate.  Red in the throat.  He’s out of tune, a harp that needs restringing – always playing sharp.  He’s not soft like Cullen.”  He focused on the man.  “Kind words, in the night with no stars.  You lit a candle and it guttered in the wind from the open window.  He always needed an open window…  ‘It’s all right, lad.  We all have nightmares.’  You’d been there longer.  Should have been you.  You’d done everything Meredith asked of you, and she ignored it, in favor of a raw kid with fear in his eyes.  Fear she could control.”

“Fucking stop that,” the man took a step back. “Get your pet demon off me.”

“I’m not a demon, I’m human,” Cole corrected, eyes sad and confused. “I’ll never be a demon again.  Do it,” he recommended.  “He’s strong.  They might save him.  Dagna.  Anders.  Bethany.  Maddox will try hardest.”  He blinked, slow and careful.  “He brought you lyrium to the docks, stolen from his stores, still gentle, even when he wasn’t there.  ‘What more can they do to me?’  You… loved him then, when he was gone.  No one thought about you but him.”

“He was fucking useful,” Samson countered.

“No, there are more words. Other words.” Cole stressed.  “’I’ll take care of you’,” he murmured.  “Kisses on the back of his neck, wishing he could feel…”

“Kill me,” Samson ordered, and his Templars turned. “You heard me, you bastards!  If she won’t do it, you do it!”  One of his behemoths raised his club-like arm, as if he couldn’t quite understand.

Avexis activated the rune, just as Cole darted underneath, and sliced at the behemoth’s club, detaching it from his body with his razor-sharp daggers.

The arm contacted with his head as it detached, and the rest of the Templars attacked their general, as one.

Cole stabbed one through the back, and it fell into a crumpled heap of lyrium, already fracturing into tiny crystals. With Samson fallen, the rest turned to face them, and Avexis captured, and contained their procession, while Solas brought down rocks, her lightning frying them, making the word stink with the smell of superheated lyrium.

She gagged, but fought on, catching an ankle with the sickle on the end of her staff and throwing one off balance so that Cassandra could cleave through its neck and shoulder. The two of them panted at each other, before Avexis ran for Samson, checking for his pulse.

“He breathes,” she marveled.

“He’s dying,” Cole mourned, but his voice was uncertain.

“You don’t know that,” Avexis corrected automatically.

Cole was quiet for a moment. “True.”

Avexis settled the Templar, shifting him to rest more comfortably on the floor. “We… we can’t take him with us,” her voice shook.  “We have to reach Morrigan and Abelas, before he can destroy the Well of Sorrows… but Corypheus is coming.”

“I’ll stay,” Cole whispered. “I can hear him.  I’ll stay.”  He raised his eyes to Avexis’.  “You go.”

“Thank you, Cole,” Avexis pulled away, and Cole took her place, swinging his legs into the water so that it splashed around him. He started humming the tavern song about the man next to him – the sort of surreal lullaby that she’d come to expect from him,

Abelas ran ahead, using something like that looked like Fadestep to climb the stairs somehow morphing into existence, while a single raven darted up before him, cutting off his progress with a flurry of feathers to the Elvhen’s face. “Rude,” Avexis pressed onward, all her usual fatigue returning.  “Remind me to have words with Morrigan, Cassandra?”

“If you don’t, I will,” the woman bit the words off viciously. “Abandoning us like that… she needs a swift kick someplace to make it count.”  She paused, “You would move faster as a raven.”

“I promised Cullen,” Avexis panted, “I promised I wouldn’t shapeshift during the battle. And it’s not over, not yet.”  She ran on, climbing stairs that seemed never to end, only to stumble when they finally tapered off to a flat landing surrounding a shallow pool, Morrigan and Abelas, already arguing, and the long sought Eluvian in the background.

“Oh look, Morrigan!” She tried to enthuse. “An Eluvian.”

The witch narrowed her eyes at her. “Indeed.”

If she never heard a mage quarreling again, it would be too soon.


	66. Questions, Answers, and a Single Punch

Avexis shoved her exhaustion behind her, as if it was a spirit she could banish. “So… Abelas, how does it work?” 

Abelas stared at her, yellow eyes glowing under his hood – oddly similar to Morrigan’s - as if he’d never seen anything quite like her. “How does what work?” The Sentinel asked finally.

“Your immortality,” Avexis urged. “If I’m not Elvhen, then what am I?  Is your immortality just based on Uthenara?  How much do the Dalish have wrong?  Is the difference between you, and the Dalish, and I, merely one of knowledge?”

The elf narrowed his eyes, “And why would I share such knowledge with the shemlen?”

“Am I shemlen?” Avexis wondered.  “What makes us different?”

“You ask a great many questions,” Abelas, after a long silence, replied.

“It’s my job, even when I don’t expect that anyone will answer,” she sighed, and turned back to the Well. “I would think you wouldn’t want the knowledge destroyed.”

His silence was long. “I do not.  It is our purpose.  Our reason for continued existence.  Without this Temple, there is no place left for us in the world.  And without our protection, everything we are – all the knowledge of Mythal – will be lost.”

“It’s already lost,” Avexis mourned, flicking her eyes back to him pointedly, and Abelas closed his eyes, in silent agreement.

“Perhaps… you have shown respect to Mythal,” he stated, resignation lining his face. “If you wish to use the Well… do so.  But if you do, you should know – you will be bound, as we are bound.”  He pulled away.

“’Bound as you are bound?’” Avexis shifted her gaze to the Well.

Morrigan barked a laugh, “Bound to a goddess that no longer exists – if she ever did?”

“Wait,” Avexis stopped him, without touching him. “You’re just going to leave this place?”

“With the Well gone, our purpose is ended,” Abelas managed a small smile. “There remains no place for us here.”

“You could join the Inquisition…” Avexis offered lowly.

Solas, so silent up to this point, spoke, “There is still a place for the Elvhen, if you seek it, lethallan.”

Abelas looked at him closely. “With Elvhen like you?” He almost sneered.

“Yes, with Elvhen like me,” Solas said something more – in Elvhen, and Avexis only caught the other elf’s name before Solas translated, and the other man left, without further information or ceremony. “I told him I hope he finds a new name,” he volunteered.

The words hadn’t sounded quite like that – but as they turned back towards the Well, she knew she didn’t have time to try to parse out the meaning.

No, now, all the remaining time had to go towards mediation, as Solas took up Abelas’ side of the argument about who, precisely, should drink from the Well.

Avexis hung her head, wondering why, again, she had felt it necessary to bring both Solas and Morrigan with her to the Temple of Mythal. Perhaps she was spending too much time in temples and Chantries lately.  They’d fought so hard to get here, only to be held up, here at the end… “We should have just jumped in the hole,” she muttered in Cassandra’s direction, drained, and feeling like every nerve was on fire.  “It couldn’t have been worse than trying to deal with these two.”

“Now you agree,” her friend snapped.

But it was so rare for Solas and Morrigan to agree on anything, that she had listened. And the stupid puzzles hadn’t been that hard… and they had made allies – of a sort - of the strange elves who claimed she wasn’t an elf at all.

“We are the last of the Elvhen, never against shall we submit,” Avexis murmured. The rallying cry took on a whole new meaning, with the knowledge that the Sentinels remained.

How lonely, to sleep until everything you knew and loved was gone forever. Even with as tired as she was, she wouldn’t want to sleep that long…

But now the two ‘experts’ were bickering like children about the Well of Sorrows. Solas didn’t want it, but he didn’t want Morrigan to have it either.  He didn’t want it destroyed, but admitted it might give them knowledge they lacked, and that the Inquisition should use it.  Just like him, to argue the benefit of something he didn’t want, but not want it to go to anyone else, either, even while he refused to destroy it.

Indecision would kill them all. Inaction was a choice in itself.  They were out of time.

But she couldn’t listen to Morrigan. The witch wanted it too much.  Couldn’t she feel it, calling to her?  The insidious whispers from the not-water were crowding out the noise from Corypheus’ dragon – a dragon that was now lost entirely to the madness that came with red lyrium.

Wordless ravings from an insane creature were easier to block, even as she mourned what Corypheus had done to it. The anger from the territorial dragons in the Emprise were docile in comparison.  There was no cure for what the dragon had become – a mindless monster, like the Templars themselves.  There was nothing left of the dragon that had first called her ‘daughter’ back in Haven.

There was no time to mourn, just as there was no time for indecision.

“I did not expect the Well to feel so… hungry,” Morrigan murmured, entranced.

“That’s not a good thing.”

“Knowledge creates a thirst for more knowledge, Inquisitor,” the witch encouraged. “Let me drink.”

Avexis hesitated. “What do all of you think?”

Cole and Cassandra and Solas were all in agreement – “Let the witch have it,” Avexis had never seen Cassandra so concerned. “And Maker help us all.”

But still, she hesitated. “Solas… are you sure?”

“Don’t ask me again,” the elf snapped.

“I alone have the training!” Morrigan pleaded. “Let me drink!”

They were out of time. Corypheus was coming, evidenced by the dragon’s ravings… “Be quiet,” Avexis spoke calmly, understanding what she had to do to settle their argument and save them all.  “I’ll do it.”

“What?” Morrigan turned to her. “You?” 

“Who else?” She blinked sullenly. “I’m not much, but I’m what we have, and I will not force Solas to do something against his will.  Don’t you feel it?  That’s not just the memories of Mythal’s priests in the Well – it’s their will.  You drink, and it will lay a geas upon you.”  She breathed, shakily, “I won’t tell you to drink where I will not, Morrigan.”  She exchanged an understanding glance with the witch, and closed her eyes.  “I will drink, and deal with the consequences.  I’ll… accept the geas, whatever it may be.  It’s the responsible thing, n’est-ce pas?”

Solas narrowed his eyes in silence, as Avexis waded into the not-water.

Definitely not water. It was a well of liquid magic, and… worse?  Something more than magic.  She shivered as the substance touched her skin.  Magic wrapped around her, tasting of iron and smelling of copper.  She closed her eyes and knelt, opened her mouth, and let the Well take her.

It took her back.

_She was with Frenic, twisting to get away as he carried her from the Circle. His hand over her mouth too large to bite, her helpless form unable to breathe though her stuffy nose, much less scream. Powerless._

_She choked her way through her first taste of dragon’s blood. Felt the unwanted power come to her, hacking and vomiting as the mage took control of her will and connected her mind with the dragons he sought to control.  Too many voices in her head as she fought to stay sane… Overwhelmed._

And then she snapped back, her mind clear, even as her surroundings faded into darkness. These voices weren’t dragons.  They were… something else.  Something old.  Something… other. 

In the darkness, they asked her questions and she explained, the desperate nature of her task, in a language she didn’t consciously understand. But here, in this place, it didn’t seem to matter…

Wisps formed, pierced her chest, doubling her over. Ages of knowledge washed over her in an endless tide.  She saw through other eyes, saw death and fire and fear and blood, and all the wisdom and sorrow of people who weren’t made to live this way – what way, she struggled to understand – crashed into her. 

She watched her own skin glow, etched with a spell bound to her burning veins. _Bound, as we are bound._ Abelas’ words echoed in her ears.

There was a cost to power. There was always a cost.  She was tied to a new destiny – more securely than she’d ever been to the Mark, to the Circle, or even to the Inquisition.  There was no escaping this fate.

Morrigan was wrong. A goddess that never existed would never hold such power over her followers.  She felt a stab of regret.

Why hadn’t she let the other woman drink? But then… what of Kieran?

“Maker, don’t let it end like this,” she heard Cassandra’s begging prayer, and she gasped air back into her lungs, and opened her eyes, shocked to find the world around her mostly unaltered, except...

The pool she laid in was bone dry, as she rolled to her knees, gasping and gagging at the lump of nothing in her throat, on all fours on the cool dry stones. She held her throat, and staggered to her feet, rebuffing Cassandra’s proffered arm.  To be touched right now – it would be too much, it would push her over the edge, with the company of the murmurs humming in her brain.  Magic ebbed around her feet as she stumbled forward, hazy like smoke, but thick as blood, coiling around her ankles like the memory of snakes.  Not a dream.  She was… more than she had been, before.

Was she still herself? Would it be enough?  She’d just realized her freedom – at what price had she given it up?

She heard Cassandra’s sword, unsheathed with a ring of well-used metal, and turned her head to see her oldest friend direct her weapon. In the distance, Corypheus approached, howling his anger at her defiance of his divine right to the Well. 

Avexis scowled at him, knowing he had no right to claim it at all. The Well was not despoiled – but if he touched it, it would be.  Evil could not stand where she was.  She rose on her coiled magic, bringing it upward to support her on instinct, raised her arms as regally as any statue, and opened the Eluvian – not asking how she knew, just doing, just being what she had become.  “Through the Eluvian!”

Was she still herself? Hardly the time to ask.  “Allons-y!” she called out, and witnessed her friends diving to safety, before she darted through herself.  As if she wasn’t quite corporeal any longer, she divided herself, leaving an aspect behind to shatter the Eluvian behind her with a movement more divine than mortal.

Her split mind lost contact, as the darkspawn magister cast himself against her semblance, destroying it with a single touch.

She snapped back to herself, threw herself towards the active Eluvian – Morrigan’s Eluvian, left active for her – and emerged mere moments later, Corypheus’ snarls still echoing in her ears, on the floor of the room near the chapel in Skyhold. Morrigan and Solas were already gone, but Cassandra helped her up, steadied her feet.  “What have you done?” The Seeker’s eyes were so weary.  “You’ve…”

“I’m… not sure yet.” Avexis confessed, eyes wide, grabbing onto her friend. “I’m hearing things.  But not the normal things.  More things.  Voices from the past?  Other people…”  Her thoughts drifted, and her eyes traced the face of her friend, seeing her with new eyes.

Cassandra shuddered, “You’ve dedicated yourself to something we don’t understand.”

“Someone had to.” She shivered.

“It shouldn’t always have to be you,” Cassandra criticized. She squeezed her shoulders tight.  “Still – if it had to be someone other than Solas, I’m… glad it was you.  Morrigan – we can’t trust her ambitions. I’m going to go send a message to Leliana and Josie.  You should write to the Commander, and tell him you’re alive.”

Avexis blinked, “Oh. Yes, I should…” her soul longed for him suddenly, as if his arms could keep her mind from shattering apart. “Cullen will worry.  I told him I’d come back…” her words trailed off.  Someone else had promised that, and never had.  Was it Galyan she was remembering, or someone… older?  “He’ll be distraught, won’t he?  Oh, he’ll be so angry with me…”

Cassandra gripped her hand. “Promise me you won’t…” her words trailed off. “Nevermind. You cannot afford such promises. We are the same, you and I, in so many ways.  We both do what must be done, when we see it.  We don’t think things through…” she squeezed it tight.  “I hope you didn’t learn that from me.”

Avexis said nothing, hearing voices in a language she barely understood. “Cassandra…” she started to explain. But where could she begin?

“I know,” and Cassandra, awkward and stiff, enfolded her in a hug that offered more angles than comfort. “You were brave. I… I will make your excuses, Inquisitor.  Go.  Send your letter.  Rest, if you can.  I have no doubt that the Commander will move the heavens and flatten the earth to get here quickly.  And somehow I don’t think Corypheus will linger in the Wilds.”

“Where will he go, then?” Avexis’ voice broke.  “He won’t hide.”  The voices told her as much. 

Cassandra shrugged, “I would come here. Wouldn’t you, if all your plans had failed?  I’ll go check on the Chargers.  If I’m right, we need strong defenses.”

 

_< EotD>_

 

Avexis couldn’t sleep. And not for pining after her lover, or her usual insomnia.  As soon as she laid down the ghostly voices started, speaking to her in ever clearer phrases, telling her… of another place.  A shrine, to Mythal… a way to counter Corypheus’ false archdemon.  It would mean it’s death – but with that death, his could be taken as well.  A price that would have to be paid.

Did she dare try to kill a dragon? How did you kill a dragon?

She rolled over in bed, and tried not to shiver. Four days with the voices, and she was already sick to death of the Elvhen.  “Is this the rest of my life?” She asked aloud, and the voices didn’t answer. “I can’t…”

She could, though. She’d lived years with other voices, and learned to cope. This was just a different voice, that was all.  She’d learn when to listen, and how to block them out when…

A picture of the shrine inserted itself into her mind, and reluctantly she rose to seek out Morrigan. Perhaps the witch would have answers.  She was halfway to her rooms when she realized the time. She would be sleeping, as was her son.

That left her only one option, so reluctantly she made her way to the library.

Solas, oddly enough, wasn’t sleeping. He stood staring at his unfinished mural with an angrier look than she could ever remember seeing on his face – even angrier than when she had let him kill the blood mages.  “Solas,” she began conversationally, “can I ask you some questions?”

“What, no ‘L’Oeuf’ today?” He didn’t sneer, but it came close. “No, of course not. Now that you need answers to the geas that you’ve doomed yourself to… Why did you do it?  Why?  I told you not to!  I told you what it would cost!”

“How would it have been right for Morrigan…”

“What did you tell me once? That you weren’t just a pair of pointed ears?  And yet, when faced with the decision, you made your choice based on them.” 

“I didn’t do it because I’m an elf. I did it because Morrigan has a _child_.  I… I couldn’t doom her to an unknown geas, just out of fear for what it would cost me!  She’s a mother!”

He turned to face her, face stony. “If you didn’t wish for the witch to drink from the Well, you should have destroyed it.  The Well should not have been for you.  It wasn’t for anyone.”  He made to turn away from her as she approached. “It was a… relic, of things that should be forgotten.”

“Why?” Avexis shook her head. “I’m hearing things. Voices…”

“Ask Morrigan, as she knows so much of the People.”

“She sleeps. I don’t want to wake her.”

“Convenient, to sleep when people need answers.”

“As if you can talk?” Avexis shook herself.  It was no time to start a fight.  “Solas, won’t you help…” Avexis reached out to touch his sleeve.

“I will not.” He twisted out of her grasp, preternaturally fast. “You’ve meddled with things you don’t understand, and now you expect me to explain them.  Now, after you’ve failed to listen to my advice, time and again.  After you’ve mocked me.  No more."

“I’m sorry,” Avexis tried. “I shouldn’t have… I should have done better.”

“And yet despite your apology, I cannot help you.”

“Like you can’t help the Dalish?” Avexis bent her hand into a fist.  “You’re a selfish bastard, keeping your secrets when the world is burning down.  You know more than you’ll say, and I know it!  You went to fucking sleep yourself, when I couldn’t save your friend, and left the rest of us to fight through the Plains, alone!  Sleeping doesn’t save the world, Solas!”

Solas narrowed his eyes. “Think as you will.  Your opinion changes nothing.”

“Cul du chien.”

“Appropriate.” He smiled, insolent and superior.

Avexis’ fist impacted before she realized what was happening. His hand came up, holding his jaw, eyes first wide, and then narrowing as he pulled his hand away.

She backed away, staring first at the red mark where she’d hit him, and then at her bruising knuckles. “I’m sorry… I don’t know what…”

“Leave me.”

She turned and fled, dodging sentries and messengers, across the bridge to Cullen’s room. She climbed his ladder, ripped the blanket from his bed, scaled the tree to his roof and watched the road to Skyhold, as if she could will his appearance by wishing. 

She fell asleep in the predawn light, listening to the voices of ages past whirling through her disturbed dreams, and learning to despise the name ‘Mythal’.


	67. Third Time's a Charm

She woke to the clamor of the battlement guards looking for someone, her thoughts more adjusted, if weighted with chagrin. “She’s been missing since last night,” Bruce hissed to a counterpart.  She bent over to see over the roof, to watch him easier.  “She’s not in the Commander’s quarters, but she’s got to be…” she whistled, and Bruce looked up.  “Inquisitor! There you are!”  He beamed, and then tried to arrange his face to better suit professionality.  “Sorry if I woke you, milady?”

“No harm done,” she stretched. “Is there news?”

“Yes, mum! From the Commander! Seeker Pentaghast has the dispatch.  You might want to come down – she’s been looking everywhere for you.”

“I’ll be down directly,” she yawned, and flung her legs over the edge to descend the tree. She spread out the Commander’s blanket on his bed, without his usual military precision, and lingered to smooth it, wishing he were there. 

Soon. Maker, let it be soon?

She shimmied down the ladder, and met Bruce at the Commander’s desk. Feeling saucy, she sat herself down in Cullen’s chair and held her hand out for the dispatches.  “Reports, please?”

Bruce handed them over, and stood at attention while she read, her eyes growing darker. “Good news, Inquisitor?”

“Non,” she whispered, dread sinking deep into her stomach. “Samson’s alive.  They’re bringing him back for judgement.”  She took a breath.  “Fetch the Seeker for me, s’il vous plait?  And keep this to yourself.”

“At your order,” Bruce darted for the far door, and she heard his feet hit the stone steps over the sound of the rising voices in her head. She buried her face in her hands. It would be so much easier if Samson had just died.

All too soon she heard Cassandra’s brisk march on the flagstones. “Inquisitor!  Where have you…” the woman’s disgusted noise echoed.  “You slept here, didn’t you?”

“On the roof.”

“On the…” Cassandra pulled her out of the chair. “Come.  You need a bath, and food.  Move!” She shoved her onto the bridge to the main hall.  “Of all the ridiculous displays…”

“It’s not like that.”

“Yes, it is. You can miss the Commander as much as you like, but we’re at war.  You can’t afford to be a lazy, lovesick…”

“I punched Solas.” Those words stopped Cassandra dead in the middle of the Great Hall’s entrance.

“What did he…”

“He did nothing. I hit him, right in the face, because he wouldn’t answer my questions.  Because I was scared, and he was there, and I…” Cassandra pulled at her, urgent and nearly harsh.  “Cassandra!”

“Shush. We can’t let the news of you hitting your companion get out among the ranks. Letting the nobles know might be amusing, but letting Josie get wind of it… That would be unwise as well,” the woman hissed.  “You will need to apologize, of course, but…”

“I did, well I tried to. He didn’t accept.” Avexis let herself be tugged along in the Seeker’s wake, towards her bedroom.  “I’m so embarrassed.”

“I’ve hit many people in my life,” the Seeker sighed. “Some I meant to.  Some were impulses.  There are very few I actually regret.” Her mouth twitched.  “I broke a suitor’s arm once.  It was… mostly an accident. I didn’t mean to break the arm at least.  I don’t regret it.  Much.  I think you punching L’Oeuf was a long time coming.”

“I wish I handled myself better. And we shouldn’t call him that.”

“He’s worked hard to earn the name. But learn from this, then.” Cassandra shoved her up the stairs, and Avexis settled herself in her strangely warm bedroom.  “Eat,” the Seeker ordered.  “I don’t care if you’ve dedicated yourself to Mythal in some strange Elvhen ritual, you still need to eat.  You, at least, are not immortal.”

Avexis bit into a biscuit, not really tasting it, and then dipped it into the coffee – long since cold - waiting next to it. Cassandra stayed silent, watching her eat.

And then she asked, “The voices you heard – are they gone?” Cassandra’s voice was tinged with hope, as if Avexis could expelled them with her fist to Solas’ face.

“Non,” Avexis set the biscuit down. “I need to speak to Morrigan.”

“I’ll get her myself, after you’ve eaten.”

Avexis took a deep breath, “I find it likely that I will need to make a trip. Perhaps even before Cull – the advisors return.”

“No,” Cassandra pressed her lips together. “I don’t understand.  It’s possible I can’t understand.  But you are not traveling with that – woman, without me, or without telling your – Cull – the Commander, where you are going and why.”

Avexis raised her eyebrows, “You don’t want me to go without telling Cullen?”

Cassandra rolled her eyes, looking away. “Keeping things from each other dooms relationships.  The Commander loves you, and will be hurt if you leave without talking to him about it.  Even if he can’t change your mind or change anything that has already happened.  You don’t have to agree, but you must tell him what you’ve done, and what you must do next. Besides, you did this. You will not leave others to clean up the mess you made. He deserves to hear from you, what you’ve done and why.”

Avexis took a deep breath. “I see.” She fiddled with her spoon.  “Cassandra, do you think he…”

“Anyone who knows the Commander knows that he loves you. He will not care if you hear voices – no matter how ancient.  Probably.  You’ve heard things other people can’t hear all along – and I doubt these will change a damn thing. You have always been odd, Avexis. This changes nothing.”  The Seeker’s jaw snapped shut with an audible click.  “You should not question devotion. He deserves better.”

Avexis nodded, ever so slightly and took another bite, thinking. “I will wait, then.  But I still need Morrigan.”

“Then eat.” Avexis could only obey, her appetite returning somewhat as she worked through the tray. 

Cassandra drifted away as the food disappeared, only to come back at a run. “Avexis!  The witch’s son – he’s disappeared into the Eluvian!”

Avexis thrust herself away from her desk, and ran for the stairs. “When?”

Their steps hammered down the wooden steps to the Main Hall. “Just now,” Cassandra wasn’t even panting, as she shoved Orlesian nobles into the walls to get them out of her way.  “Morrigan insists that the mirror wasn’t active.  She claims she doesn’t know how he made it work!” 

“Shit,” Avexis gasped, and reached the door to the room. Empty.  “Where is Morrigan?!”

“She must have gone through,” Cassandra marched up to the mirror and paused before entering, her face pale with tension.

Avexis stopped her, “No, I’ll go.”

“Alone?” Cassandra shook her head, “Avexis, I can’t allow…”

“I’m the Inquisitor,” Avexis closed her eyes. “If I’m not back in a half an hour, send someone after me.” 

Cassandra hesitated, and nodded, “Very well. Go.  Maker be with you.”

And Avexis stepped through the mirror and into… “The Fade?” Her disgusted noise echoed against the rocks. “For fuck’s sake, not again.”

 

_< EotD>_

 

Cullen’s hands shook on the parchment, waves of relief, of terror, of confusion washing over him in a muddled disaster of a mess. He had thought her captured – or worse, when they had stormed the Temple, only to find it empty, watching Corypheus and his dragon wing away.

“Oi! What’s her Inquizzy-ness done now, then?” Sera snapped him out of his fugue, and he hid the letter on impulse.  “And where’s she gone?”  She nodded at the concealed letter behind his back.  “That’s her seal, ain’t it?”

Cullen gave up, “She’s… back at Skyhold.” The news should relieve him - the witch had been right, partially.  About the Eluvian, at least... but the rest of it...

“What?” Sera blinked, “How? Nevermind,” she rushed over his open mouth.  “I don’t want to know.  It’ll be magic, then, and that the kind that sucks.  But she’s safe, right?”  Cullen closed his eyes.  “Oh, Andraste’s tits, what’s happened?  You look the color of the sour cream that even Cook won’t use.”

“I imagine so.”

“Out with it, then!”

“She’s… she drank of something called the Well of Sorrows.  It’s… bound her, to the Elvhen goddess Mythal.”

“Shit,” Sera’s eyes were wide and scared. “She’s bound herself to a demon?”

“We don’t know it’s a demon,” Cullen began.

“Like Void we don’t – either the Maker is real, or it’s the elven god-things. You can’t do both!”

“Just because Mythal exists doesn’t mean that it’s – she’s - a goddess…” Cullen began.

“Right on, so it’s a demon,” Sera grinned, skull-like. “So… think she’s possessed?”

“Maker, no!” Cullen blanched and grabbed at the low table next to him. “She… she can’t be!”

“You have to face it,” Sera gripped at him. “If she is, she’s dangerous shite.  She’s fucking scary even when she’s not controlled by something wrong.”

“She’s not possessed,” Cullen gritted his teeth. “She’s just…” his words failed him.

“Oh, Curly’s got ways of knowing if people are possessed,” Varric piped up from behind them both. “He knees people in their privates, and if the demon pops up to defend itself, then…”

Sera cackled, her face still dark. “That it, then?”

“There’s more to it than that,” Cullen felt his face heat. “There’s nuances.  It’s a complicated…”

“I’ll do it then,” Sera swung herself down from the table. “I don’t mind pointing an arrow at her face, knowing she’d want me to do it iffen she was abominated or whatever.”

Cullen grabbed at the woman. “Don’t you dare…”

Sera twisted away. “Someone’s got to.  Inquisition’s got a whole horde of people that a demon could wipe out in minutes.  People people, who’ve never done nothing but their jobs.  Not going to risk that.  ‘Sides, Avexis is my friend, too.  She’s told me she doesn’t want to go all spooky.”  She snorted, “Just asking for it, with all that playing with spirits she does in the field.  Calling demons and what-not.  Even that thing said it was wrong, and that’s saying something.” 

“Her Inquisitorialness was never one to do something without a reason,” Varric cut in, a little too reasonably. “Maybe you should save the arrows until she can explain herself?”

“Yeah, so the demon can worm its way into my brain, instead?” Sera snarked. “As if.” 

“Gotta have a brain to work with, Buttercup. Telling Curly that you want to shoot his lady calls that into question,” Varric said, winking at Cullen. “Go calm down. I got this.”

Sera turned on her heel and stuck a finger up at Varric on her way out the door. “Ppppfffffthhh.” 

Cullen watched her go, tense with worry. “It’ll be all right, Curly,” Varric patted his back.  “She told you about it.  That’s a good sign.  The ones you need to worry about are the ones that deny that anything ever happened, the ones that never tell their whole story.”

“Like Anders?” Cullen managed, his voice hoarse.

“Like Blondie, though Hawke might know a little more than I’ve managed to piece together,” Varric’s eyes were dark, and the lines at the corners were deep. “But even that worked out – in the end.  Sort of.”

“A lot of people had to die before it ‘worked out’, dwarf,” Cullen bit off. “If the Inquisitor is… compromised, I have a duty.”

“Stop right there,’ Varric braced him in physically, a hand on each forearm. Cullen resisted a desire to shake him off.  “You don’t have shit.  You’re not a Templar any longer.  You’ve vowed your protection to Avexis, body, soul, and heart, am I wrong?”

Cullen closed his eyes, and choked. “It’s true.”

“Then wait and hear her side of the fucking story,” Varric slammed his fist down on the table. “We weren’t there.  She was.  She has her reasons.  Let her fucking talk to you before you sign the script for her execution!”

Cullen managed a swift nod. “I - I will.”  He opened his eyes, and let the other man see some portion of his despair.  “And I promise, that if she goes, I go with her.  I can do no less.”

Varric whistled, “Shit, Curly, you play for keeps.”

“Would you do any less? For Hawke, or even for Bianca?”

Varric grinned like a death’s head, but Cole slipped out from under the table before he could answer. “He won’t say.  Too many people at risk.  People he cares about, people who have people.  He sits, in the center of a web, but he doesn’t bite.  He tweaks, protects, guards, only traps when he has to.”  Cole squinted at Cullen.  “She told you already.  You heard her.  It made you happy, so happy.  She can’t be possessed.  You know.  Remember.”

“I’m trying,” Cullen clenched his jaw, and then smoothed out the letter. “I’m trying.”


	68. Fade, Family, and Failures

Avexis resisted her temptation to make sure that the Eluvian was a two way street by stepping back through – just to check. “If the Eluvian can travel to the Fade – can it travel to anywhere?” She shook her head, “No, it needs another Eluvian on the other side.  But… how the fuck did an Eluvian get to the Fade in the first place?” 

She meandered for some minutes, noting the paths that she took – hoping that it would be far easier to exit this part of the Fade than it was the Nightmare’s realm. Her surroundings were just different enough to reassure her that this wasn’t that demon’s home.

Then again, perhaps Justice had managed to kill it. That would be a nice surprise.  The spirit had appeared during Maddox’s ritual, Cullen’s account had been quite clear… and the thought of her lover made her curse again – wisps and shadowy uncorrupted wraiths scattering at the sound of her Orlesian.

“Cullen is going to kill me,” she said aloud. “Back in the Fade – again.  Three times, in just a year?  I’m making a habit of this.”  Her hands shook a bit less.  “But my odds of returning are definitely improving.”  She lifted her voice and called out, “Morrigan!  Kieran?  Are either of you here?”  The pointlessness of the exercise hit her like a brick – the Fade was infinite.  They could be anywhere.

“Inquisitor?” Morrigan’s tones cut through the silence, and Avexis hurried her feet in the direction of the words, a lightning spell at the ready – in case it wasn’t actually Morrigan calling out to her at all, but something else. “Inquisitor!”  The mother was spinning around, panicked and harried.  “My son, he’s…”

“How did he do this?”

“I do not know,” Morrigan protested. “He shouldn’t be able to… you’ll help me look, won’t you?”

“Of course I will,” Avexis stifled her severe misgivings about what the Fade could do to a child who wasn’t prepared or trained... but surely Morrigan had taught him caution.

Probably. Not enough to know better than to activate an Eluvian and wander into the Fade alone, but… she had been a child with power once.  A child who had done stupid things with said power.

“Stay close to me,” she instructed the woman, gently. “And try not to panic.  We won’t want to draw unnecessary attention while we search.”

“I… will try,” Morrigan breathed a little easier. “Thank you, Inquisitor.”

“We’ll find him, Morrigan.” She took a deep breath, “Have faith.”

“Faith,” the woman’s inflection was flat and dry. “Such nonsense.”

“It worked the last time,” Avexis snarked, and led them both along the bottom of a canyon filled with twisting rocks, spiraling upward in elaborate forms. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed, understanding Solas’ preoccupation a little better, now that she didn’t fear immediately for her life.

“Pardon?” Morrigan glanced where she was looking, at the peaks. “Yes, I suppose – but we shouldn’t dally…”

“Just trying to understand,” Avexis protested, still walking. “The last time I was in the Fade, it was frightening.  I’m not scared this time.”  On the contrary, it was nearly comfortable, other than worrying about what Kieran might have run into… 

“My son is missing. This is the worst nightmare I can imagine.” 

They turned a blind corner, and two far more corporeal forms came into view. Avexis frowned, grabbing at her companion. “Morrigan – is that…”

“Kieran!” Morrigan darted forward, and then came to a complete stop.

“Mother!” Kieran and another woman, kneeling in front of him, playing with wisps, like Avexis had done back as an apprentice, winding them around his arm, and dismissing them with a snapping sort of pop, only to appear somewhere else. “Did you see what I did?”  He beamed.

Morrigan failed to answer, her eyes narrowing at the woman in red leather next to him. “Mother.”

“Morrigan,” the woman stood, regal and commanding. “How… unexpected.”

“Mother?!” Avexis’ took a step back, eyeing her companion. “Morrigan?  Is this a family reunion?”

The older woman, hair curved back like horns, smiled at Kieran, lines of laughter as well as age crinkling up around her face. “Kieran…” Morrigan’s voice cracked.  “Come here.”

Kieran glanced at his mother and stepped away, slowly. After a few steps, he ran and embraced her eagerly.  “I’m sorry I left, Mother.  Grandmother called to me.  She told me it was time!”

“Time?” Morrigan frowned, “I don’t understand.”

“So hasty and rude,” the woman clucked disapprovingly. “One would think no one taught you manners.”  She looked fondly at the child.  “Hard to believe that he’s yours at all.  So much more better behaved than you at the same age.”

“I know what you intend,” Morrigan snapped at the older woman. “You can’t have him.”

Avexis found her voice, “Morrigan – this is your mother?”

The woman nodded, with a tilted head, her expression changing not a whit. “This is Flemeth. The woman who raised me, my mother, if you prefer.”

Avexis paled, and swallowed. “Flemeth?  Are you really?”  She stammered, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

All of the tales of Flemeth indicated that you always treated the mage with propriety. That she gave respect where respect was due, and saw justice done where it was deserved.

“Manners,” Flemeth smirked. “In an Orlesian.  How charming.”

“You cannot have him!” Morrigan persisted, even as her son wandered back to his grandmother. “You wicked crone – you consume the lives of your daughters to extend your own life!  Inquisitor-”

“Do I?” Flemeth walked over and touched Avexis’ cheek, staring deep into her eyes.  “You would know best.”

“What is best is for you to die at my hand.” Morrigan started to gather her power to her. 

“Oh, because that worked so well for you when you tried it before,” Flemeth laughed, her face still far too close to Avexis for her to be comfortable. She patted her cheek. 

Avexis managed not to jerk away. Just managed.  “He’s a child.”

Flemeth merely smiled. “Kieran is… very special indeed.  Are you going to stop me?”

“I will stop you,” Morrigan formed a spell, and let it rest at her fingertips. “Let him go.” 

Flemeth tutted, “As if I were holding him hostage.” She smiled at Avexis, as Morrigan went to cast.  “Restrain her for me, would you?”

An unquenchable flame burned through Avexis’ veins, and she found herself grabbing Morrigan around her middle, Dispelling her power. The mana around the woman’s forearms dispersed immediately.  “What are you doing?!” Morrigan screamed at her, as she held her still, against her will. 

“I don’t know,” Avexis couldn’t even cry – just as when Frenic had controlled her, so long ago. “I don’t know, I…”  They both looked up at the older woman.  “You… you’re doing this?  How…”

“So surprised?” Flemeth smiled, “Twas you that drank from my Well, did you not?”

Morrigan, quivering, took a step back, and Avexis’s arms dropped, limp and spent. “You’re… Mythal?”  Avexis had never seen the witch so afraid. She feared for herself - if Morrigan grabbed her son and ran, she’d be left alone in the Fade.  With Mythal.  Who could control her with a simple request.  Or less.  Very likely less.

But then, perhaps this was what Mythal had intended all along. Kieran was just the bait.  Flemeth – Mythal – laughed, tipping her head back. “I have many names.” Her smile was tinged with a level of bitterness that Avexis had never seen in another living being.  “Flemeth… Mythal… Bitch Hag from the Void. That one was always Morrigan’s favorite.”

Avexis shoved her confusion aside. “Am I your servant, now?”  Her longing for Cullen reached a sharp edge.  Would she never see him again?  Was this Inquisitor, too, going to disappear, never to be seen again? 

Flemeth snorted, inelegant, “Servant? Is that what you’d call it?  I have no orders, no tasks for you.  But you… you have much to ask from me.  I would not choose that name for you.  Daughter, perhaps.  But yes, my geas holds you tight, whatever labels we put on it.”

Morrigan shook, “Inquisitor, forgive me, but right now I am very glad that ‘twas you that drank from the Well, and not I.”

“Forgiven,” Avexis managed to get the words out. “I wish it had been you.  No offense?”

“None taken.” The two women stared.  “What now then, wicked crone?”  Morrigan seemed to be regaining her equilibrium.

“A soul is not forced upon the unwilling,” Mythal tutted at her daughter. “You had nothing to fear from me.”  She narrowed her eyes, “And perhaps, the Inquisitor is what I needed all along.  Tell me, child, brave little child, you hear the voices, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Avexis whispered.

“Listen to what they tell you. Let them guide you.  You will exceed your own expectations.  And my daughter will help you, despite my unfortunate connection to the whole affair.”  The woman cupped Avexis’ face in her hands.  “You’ve done so well, child.  Truly a credit.”

Avexis shivered. “To who?” 

“To whom, to what, and from where?” Flemeth corrected, and laughed, “Those all remain to be told. Your tale is far from over… but enough of that.  For now, I must tend to my grandson.”  She stepped back, and knelt before the child, who stared at her, eyes wide and sad.  Flemeth nodded, “As you wish,” and raised her hands, drawing a blue wisp right out of him, and absorbing it herself.  “There,” she laid a hand on her grandson’s shoulder.  “Is that better?”

“No more dreams?” The boy’s eyes widened hopefully.

“No more dreams,” she assured him. He hugged her, and then darted away to his mother.  She rose to her feet with the grace of a much younger woman.  “Go then, Inquisitor.”  She smiled, “Morrigan.”

“Mother.” Morrigan clutched her son’s shoulders tightly, and turned them both away, back towards the distant mirror.  Avexis followed, but turned back, one more time, to look at the woman that held her fast.

Mythal had disappeared. 

Cullen would kill her. Cassandra would kill her.  What had she done?

 

<EotD>

 

The raven perched on Cullen’s horse’s head, cawing frantically, and Cullen reached out to unfasten the bindings with shaking hands, relaxing only slightly at the seal. It wasn’t the Inquisitor.  This was from their forces at Wycome.  He opened the letter, breathing more easily – after all, how much worse could it get, than having the woman he loved subject to a mysterious geas linked to an Elvhen Creator?

Two lines in, he knew it was worse. The Lavellan clan that claimed to have knowledge about Avexis’ family was dead.  All of them.  And it was his fault. 

He closed his eyes, letting his horse walk on without direction. He would have to break the news to her – Avexis might not remember the woman, but… she had cared enough to send assistance.  First ambassadors to help mend ties with the local nobles, to help with those harrying the clan, and then again, in the form of troops, to help them defend the land they were living on.  Both had failed – her advisors’ failure, not hers.  He reopened his eyes and read the rest of the letter.

His lieutenant was headed back to Skyhold – with what remained of the clan’s belongings. She claimed that all of the Free Marches were hostile to the Inquisition, after so much bungling, aside from the successful defense of Kirkwall from the Starkhaven forces.

Defeat upon the recent pyrhhic victory at the Arbor Wilds.

He clenched his jaw and rode forward, towards Josie and Leliana, and handed the spymaster the letter without a word. 

“Oh, no,” Leliana’s back remained straight, her voice soft. “This is…”

“A disaster.” Cullen looked ahead.  “I will ride ahead, to break the news to Avexis.  She… needs to know.  I would be the one to tell her.  It is my failure, after all.”

“Our failure, but… she will take it best from you,” Leliana handed the letter to the dismayed Ambassador.

“The Free Marches are lost?” Josie’s eyes were calculating and hard. “I wonder…” but she shook herself.  “Yes, well, it will have to wait until our return.  But I have my own inquiries to make, Leliana, Cullen.  Do not despair.”  The woman smiled, subtle and dangerous as a hidden knife.  “I am not without weapons suited for this battle.”

“Let’s keep it quiet, until then,” Leliana advised. “The elves among us, for certain, would find this… demoralizing, at best.”

Cullen nodded. “We will make the formal announcement, then, upon our return.”  He straightened in his saddle.  “I’m going to ride ahead, with your approval.”

“I figured you would,” Leliana agreed, and Josie handed the letter back to him. “And… tell Avexis I’m sorry for her loss.”

“So am I. So are we all.”  He turned his Forder towards the provision wagons, shouting orders.  In less than an hour, he was trotting ahead.

With luck – of which there was precious little lately – he’d be at Skyhold in three days.

Not soon enough.


	69. Homecomings and War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW about halfway through. Should be easy to dodge. Just quit reading when they climb upstairs.

Avexis huddled with Morrigan in the library, puzzling over the voices in her head. From the top of the stairs, Cullen watched, still dirty from the road, not wanting to disturb her, and knowing he must, the letter in his hand quivering with his own tension.  “They’re very… confusing,” she tried to explain.  “But they speak of a Shrine to Mythal.  Somewhere in the Dales.  I keep getting flashes of a place… there’s a statue?”

Morrigan’s eyes flashed, “I have it, then,” she bent over the parchment before them and scribbled madly, glyphs and words taking form. The woman pulled out a book, three down in a massive stack of reference tomes, and flipped the page madly, to about a quarter of the way through.  “And the statue, does it look like this?”

Avexis stared, frowning, the voices in her head murmuring with excitement and wonder. “I think…” she began, and reached out to take the quill, and pulled a map forward, her hand hovering over it, as if she hesitated to mark it up.

Cullen knew he had to speak. “Inquisitor,” she jerked her head up, her eyes widening with recognition.  “Do you have a moment?” 

“Cullen…” she breathed, and dropped the pen, and ran to embrace him. “You’re… you’re home.”

He couldn’t resist holding her, breathing her in, like the scent of her hair would tell him – even outside of the Fade - if she harbored some vile presence.

But she smelled as she always did, of Embrium, and sunshine, and wool, tinged today with ink. He held her closer than he should have, given his news, and drew back, only reluctantly, to hand her the letter.   “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his fingers letting go only reluctantly of the parchment.

Avexis, face confused, scanned the letter, and backed to the chair she’d just left, reaching for it with searching hands. “How...”

“We were betrayed - by the nobles of Wycome,” Cullen swallowed. “I’ve failed you, Inquisitor.”  He cleared his throat, “Josie will start repairing our relationship with the rest of the Marches upon her return.  And the clan’s personal effects are on their way here, with our remaining troops.  We hoped… we hoped that perhaps some of the Dalish fighting with us could assist in finding relatives of those we lost.”

“Merde,” Avexis crumpled the page in her hand. “Merde.  We failed them.  How could I let this happen?”

“Of course, I will step down immediately,” Cullen continued. “I imagine Josie will have a similar offer for you.”

“No, you won’t,” her eyes flashed at him. “It’s a… defeat, that’s all.  Josie will repair our ties.  But all those people…” her voice broke.  “Were my parents among them?  Does anyone know?”

Cullen shook his head at his ignorance. “Chambreterre may have answers, but I do not.  The Keeper – she kept her stories close.  Even Leliana couldn’t find out much more than you knew already.”

“I would like to be there when you speak to her,” Avexis’ voice shook. “Cullen, I’m sorry.  I thought I could trust the nobles there…”

“The well was poisoned with red lyrium,” Cullen said softly. “If we had known… we could have taken steps.”

“Hindsight,” sighed Avexis, and grasped his hand. “Come with me?”

Cullen glanced at Morrigan, whose lips were pursed with something, that in another person, might look like grief. “Anywhere, Ladybird.”

“The shrine- I mean, Andraste’s shrine. There are too many shrines in my head.” Avexis pulled on his hand until she could get her legs underneath her.  “I need to…” she fell into him, holding him tight, and this time, he let himself lean his head against hers.  “You know of the Well?  Of… what I did?”

“I do.” He pulled back, face serious.  “And you are well?”

Avexis laughed at the weak pun. “I feel fine, other than the random voices providing simple answers to complicated questions.  ‘Just go to this shrine!  Now, without delay!  But we can’t tell you where it is, because everyone knows that…’”

“That sounds…” she’d just used the word complicated, and he didn’t have another readily available.

“Exactly,” she laughed-sobbed. “I’m bound.  Mythal can control me, though she doesn’t seem inclined to…”

“So it’s not… possession. But something more… underhanded?  Indirect?”

Avexis snorted, “I can’t be possessed, Cullen. All the Seeker lore tells me that.  Even Cole agrees with it, one of the few things that he says outright.  There was a little thing with wisps, but I think they were memories, not spirits.  More like what I encountered in the Fade, though these were… foreign.  Other people’s memories.”

Cullen frowned, “This is all over my head. And you’re going to have to deal with Sera pointing an arrow at yours, trying to determine whether or not you’re a danger.  I’m sorry, I had the misfortune of her coming upon me right after I read your letter.  I was scared – and Sera is more… conflicted.”

Avexis tilted her head back up at him. “She always is.  So long as she holds her fire long enough to explain, it will be fine.”

“She doesn’t sound very interested in explanations,” Cullen admitted, and cupped her face in his hands. “She says Mythal’s Temple was a Temple full of demons, love.”

“Merde,” she cursed. “Is that all she saw?”  Cullen stared into her eyes, and traced the circles under them with his thumbs.

“You look so tired,” he began.

In the background, Morrigan coughed. “Well, now, I think I’m done for the day, Inquisitor.  I’ll just tidy up here, if you have business you need to take care of.”  Avexis flashed the woman a grateful glance.  “We will continue tomorrow, I presume?”

“Oui, Morrigan, and merci,” Avexis clutched his hand a little harder.

“My pleasure,” she purred, and smiled a little as she watched them go. 

Avexis and Cullen drifted down the stairs, standing as close as the narrow stairs would allow, heading for his office. “But you are well?  The repercussions…” Cullen twisted his fingers a little tighter around her hand.  “You’re hearing new voices.  That… can’t be easy.”

“Yes, and yes, and no.” Avexis sighed. “Cullen…”

“I know, I’m being foolish,” he snapped. “But you did just… disappear!  And we saw Corypheus fly away, and those elves – Sentinels – just vanished!  I thought they might have…” he flushed, ‘taken you,” he muttered the last.

“Kidnapped me?” Avexis sputtered.  “Really?”

“They had been alone for… a very long time,” Cullen turned a deeper red.

Avexis hooted, “Cullen – what are you insinuating?!” 

Cullen pressed his lips together and refused to answer. They reached his desk, and he sat in his chair, refusing to meet her eyes.  “You drank from their Well.  Are you one of them now?”

“Cullen, according to them, I’m not even Elvhen,” she laughed. “They talked over my head to Solas the whole time I was there, until right at the end, when they decided I was worthy enough to let drink.  I lit up some magical patterns in the floor, and then they left their Sanctum to us.  They didn’t even look back.  Who does that?” 

Cullen frowned, “How could they not think you’re worthy? You’re…”

“The Inquisitor?” Avexis shook her head, and settled herself in his lap.  “They’d been asleep for far longer than there have been Inquisitors, my love.”  She pulled back when he stiffened.  “Is this all right?  Should I…”

“Stay right where you are,” Cullen tightened his grip. “I just… I was worried, Avexis.  We knew nothing about this Well of Sorrows.  You’re hearing voices, voices telling you to go to a shrine in the Dales, of all things!”  He paused, hesitating, “Are you even Andrastian any longer?” 

Avexis straightened, “Just because I’ve met Mythal doesn’t mean I think she’s a goddess. On the contrary, I think she’s some kind of…” she hesitated.  “No, not spirit.  She’s something different, Cullen.  And she told me right away, that she had no orders for me.  I’m not her servant.  Perhaps an acolyte, or something of the sort.  I don’t know.  She made me keep Morrigan from hurting her.  That’s not a bad thing.  I’m not possessed by Justice, like Anders was.  If anything, it’s Flemeth herself who is controlled by Justice.  Her plan is for ‘A reckoning that will shake the very heavens’.  That’s a quote.”  She shivered a little.  “Hard to forget.”

Cullen shuddered. “That is not comforting, my love.”

Avexis curled herself back up into him. “I know.  And I’m very frightened, Cullen.  The voices say I have to kill a dragon, I think.  How can I kill a dragon while it speaks to me?”

“Some of your opponents have spoken with you on the field of battle, I’d wager,” Cullen noted, drily, and wrapped his arms around her. “I would say it is no different.  And words or no, at some point you are going to have to do something about the dragons near populated areas.  Sahrnia.  The Dales.  Crestwood.”

“I know,” she whispered into his chest. “I just… it seemed more important to deal with Corypheus first.”

Cullen hummed, “Still, I would think that a better idea about how to kill Corypheus’ archdemon might come from a dragon itself, don’t you think?” He laughed, “I don’t suppose you’ve met any somewhat friendly dragons, in your travels?”

Avexis sat up again. “Cullen, you’re brilliant.” 

He smiled. “If I were Dorian, I’d say, ‘Do go on.’”

She laughed at him, “All right then, after I visit this Shrine to Mythal, I need to visit the Storm Coast. The Western Approach is too far, but the Storm Coast – that’s doable.” Cullen sighed.  “I know, I don’t want to go.  But the voices tell me that Corypheus will not hide.  He’s coming for us, one way or another.  He can’t come here – the voices say there is something about the mountain that protects us.”

“Forgive me if I’m reluctant to rest upon the assurance of disembodied voices,” Cullen drawled, and then kissed her neck.

Avexis squirmed, and tilted her head to give him better access. “Skyhold is all the safer with you in charge.”

“Such flattery,” Cullen murmured, voice low. “It will get you everywhere, Inquisitor… and anything…”  He pulled back, just far enough to ask, “At least wait before departing?  Leliana and Josephine both need to consult with you…”

She bit her lip, “Cullen… I need to go. Soon.  Yesterday.  I shouldn’t have waited so long… but Cassandra insisted…” she colored.  “She made me wait for you to get back.”  She winked, "It didn't take much convincing."

“Why would Cassandra…”

“She said I needed to tell you what happened, and… that secrets doom relationships.”

Cullen’s face went slack, “She wanted you to tell me – not because I’m the Commander but as…”

“It was on a personal note, yes,” Avexis admitted.

“And you?” Cullen teased. “Were you thinking of your need to consult with the Commander or of… more basic needs?”  His thumb stroked circles against her hip, lazy and slow.

Avexis leaned back against his chest, “Any more, I barely separate them, Commander.” His low laugh swept her away.  “But then again…” she narrowed her eyes, and shifted off his lap to sit on his desk.  “Do you have some time?”  Her hands hovered over her vest clasps.

Cullen’s eyes sparked. “Is there something you needed?”

Avexis laughed, low and sultry. “I need to borrow you.”  She unfastened her vest, deliberately.  “I missed you, Cullen.”  She stripped off the item of clothing, and dropped it on his desk.  “I missed your hands.”  She loosened the ties at her throat, and pulled the shirt off over her head.  “I missed your mouth.”  She leaned back, and ran her hand over her laces, where they led to the junction of her legs.  “I missed your…” her eyes glinted, “presence?”

Cullen tightened his hands on the arm of his chair. “Avexis…” the words hissed over his lips.

“Won’t you touch me?” Avexis dared him. “Don’t you want to?”

Cullen closed his eyes willing restraint. It would be too easy to take her, fast, in the heat of the moment.  “I would like that.”  He stood, slowly, fencing her in with his hands.  Avexis leaned back to look him in the eyes, and he lowered his lips to her neck, tracing a hand down her spine to her lower back, and then lifted her.  She wrapped her legs around his waist, and held to his neck.  “Upstairs, then, love.”

It was hard to climb ladders when she was tugging on his hair and nibbling at his neck, and whispering in his ear. “I missed all of you.”  She squirmed against his waist.  “And you me.  I can tell.”

When he reached the top of the endless ladder, he set her down, and she shifted back. “Demon.”  He ascended, stalking her on his hands and knees like an Orlesian lion.  “Temptress.”  She didn’t contradict him, for once, and he pounced, scooping her back up as if she weighed nothing at all.  He cupped her ass and pressed her to him.  “I want nothing more than to…” he lost his words, as her lips met his.

They were out of practice. Teeth clacked against each other.  Her fingers tore at his armor fastenings, and she squirmed away to allow him to drop them to the ground with a shuddering clang that would have earned him two weeks of kitchen duty as a Templar Recruit.  “Cullen, your armor,” she gasped, laughing.

“Fuck the armor,” he clenched his teeth.

“The armor won’t enjoy it like I will,” she giggled, and ripped at her own clothes, stripping with supernatural efficiency, as he struggled to remove his own, heavier clothing.

“That’s the idea,” Cullen growled, and she squealed as he swept her back up, flinging her at his bed. She wriggled out of her smallclothes and breastband with a sigh.  He grabbed her legs, and slid her forward, demanding a taste, her arms displacing his pillows.

His sheets smelled like her. “You’ve been sleeping in here.”  He nuzzled her, pressing against her nub with his nose.  “Confess, Inquisitor.”

“Oui, Cullen.”

“Good,” he panted, and kissed her, precisely, thrusting his tongue inside her as a reward. Avexis whined, and lifted her hips, a silent request for more.  He could only comply, moving upward to circle her slowly, and penetrating with two fingers.  She hummed, rocking, and he let her fuck herself on his hand for a few moments, before curling and pressing gently.

She was glowing, her nose dewy with sweat, despite the cool air of the room. Her noises were musical, driving him onward to her completion, and he pressed his hips against the mattress, trying to hold back.

Strategically, he retreated. “I think you missed something else.”  He sat back on his heels, and stood, stripping off his pants at last, dropping his smallclothes to the ground with them.  “Would you care to share?”

Avexis looked at him narrowly, her eyes swallowed by black irises. “Cullen…”  He climbed back over her.

“You missed this,” he rubbed himself against her, and she shuddered. The tip of him almost slid inside, catching on her, but sliding upward out of her reach, dragging along her most sensitive points.  She arched, and he kissed her collarbone, and then nipped a breast.  “You missed my cock, love.”

Avexis groaned. “Cullen…”

“Admit it.”

“Oui,” she squirmed again, trying to repeat the movement. “Oui.”

“Do you want it now?”

“Merde, oui.”

Cullen laughed, and adjusted her angle so he could enter, hard. She squealed, clutching at him.  He bent his head to her shoulder, and refused to move, as she bucked against him, begging not-so-silently for friction.

Dragging out the torment, he ran his fingers down the valley of her breasts to her navel, and then to one side, stroking the soft round of her lower belly with teasing gentleness, by the pelvic bone. “You’re so lovely,” he murmured, and rolled his hips slightly.  She shivered.  “Fast, or slow?  I am yours to command.”

“Merde,” she gasped. “I… don’t know.”

So he took her, alternating hard thrusts with gentle strokes, and a murmured litany of affection and muffled curses, blending his worship with the profane until his breath ran out, and he was reduced to pants, and urgent kisses. The bed creaked beneath them, the ropes holding his horsehair mattress groaning with the stress they put them through.

Her hands clutched at his shoulders, tight as he drove her over the edge, and the hair on his chest and arms raised, responding to the electricity as she released, targeting the tree against his wall with her bolts. She relaxed, and he followed, crying out in desperation as he filled her.

He slumped to the side, and she followed, curling up against his chest. Dazed, he counted leaves as they fell from the stricken tree, up to six before his breath evened out, and he was distracted by her kiss.  “Je t’aime?”  She still asked it, even after all the months…

“Je t’aime.” He wrapped his hands around her back possessively.

“Let’s not leave this room, ever again? Fuck the war.”

“I only wish.” Regretfully, he kissed her.  “But… at least here, we don’t have to talk about it.”

 


	70. Guardians, Trust, and Too Many Drinks

“You’re going to this shrine.” Cullen stated, staring blankly at the map in front of them, the location in the Dales marked with one of Morrigan’s rarely used pewter markers, with Morrigan’s book flipped open to the sketch.  “Alone?  Unacceptable.”

“Excuse me, but I will be accompanying her,” Morrigan offered, with what could only be described as a mere fraction of her usual bitter ire. “I am not without value.”

“Our pardons, Lady Morrigan,” Josie began, “But Inquisitor, you admit you are going to ‘master’ a dragon, and yet, you have no intention of taking Lady Cassandra, or the Iron Bull, or even Madame de Fer?”

Avexis paused before answering, in case the voices had changed their mind. They hadn’t.  “That’s correct.”

“This is imbecilic,” Cullen fumed, throwing his arms up and stepping away from the War Table, as if he’d rather just toss the whole thing away from him in disgust. “There is no reason you shouldn’t have backup.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’m not actually sure I will have to kill the dragon,” Avexis began.

“It does not make me feel better,” Cullen snarled, but brought his hand up to knead the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m… you…” he sighed.  “You’ve had to face a great many things, Inquisitor.  Many things.  I just – hate to send you, alone, to what could be…”

“The voices claim this dragon is less of a danger to me than Corypheus,” Avexis countered. “This dragon isn’t trying to end the world.”

“Most likely, at least,” hedged Morrigan. “We were in agreement, were we not, that Corypheus had to get his Elven Orb from somewhere?”

“And you think that Mythal was the source?” Leliana’s eyes narrowed with speculation. “An interesting theory.”

“One that the voices do not confirm,” Avexis rushed to clarify. “I have no reason – or evidence – to support it.”

“Still,” Leliana twiddled one of her own map markers idly, running it through her fingers like a dagger. “If there is one – or should I say two – ancient beings toying with the fate of the world, why not more?  I have researchers digging through the Temple of Mythal as we speak – perhaps they will learn something.”

Morrigan snorted, rather unladylike. “I doubt it.  If Mother tells the truth, she was never the sort to leave her secrets lying about, waiting for someone to discover them.  I spent my childhood prying into her hidden corners, Leliana.  Trust me, I know.”  The witch was quiet for a moment.  “That said, her words had the ring of truth about them.  I – I find it ironic, that after all my searching for arcane mysteries, the greatest was the one I left behind.”  The woman shuddered.  “In any case, we daren’t delay any longer.  Corypheus will not, and we must be prepared to meet him.  Even now, he gathers his power.”

Cullen pressed his lips together and finally nodded. “Very well.  Safe travels, Inquisitor.”  He waited, however, until Morrigan, Leliana and Josie had left the room before addressing Avexis once more.  “Love, I know you must do this but…I cannot like it.”

Avexis walked around the table and took his hand. “I will come back safe, Cullen.  I will be well.  I promise you.”

His mouth quirked up on one side. “After ‘mastering’ a dragon?” He frowned.  “An odd choice of words.  I wonder…” he shook his head.  “Nevermind.  You will know soon enough.”  He cleared his throat, “And perhaps, you will tell me what happened, upon your return?”

“If I can,” Avexis promised, and then wrapped her arms around him, as well as his armor would allow. His came up to hold her slowly.  “In the meantime, be well.  And try not to worry?”

“A futile task, Inquisitor,” Cullen laughed, despondently. “I hope you are doing the right thing.”

“I don’t know,” Avexis whispered. “I don’t know what the right thing is anymore.”  She rested her forehead against his chest.  “I only know what I must do to win.”

 

<EotD>

 

The trip went faster than Avexis wanted, and yet seemed to drag on for ages. Morrigan was largely silent through most of it.  “What will you do once this is over?” She asked at one point.

“Move on, I expect,” Morrigan answered after a moment. “Your cause is just, but… Kieran and I do not tend to linger in one place long.  And Mother – you are her servant, but I am her daughter.  I find it difficult to believe that she will just relinquish her hold on me.”

Avexis sniffed, “She said she had no demands for me. I would hardly classify myself as her servant.”

Morrigan laughed, bitter, “Trust me when I say that her claim is secure. Even I, who is not as tightly bound as you are, cannot completely manage to break free of her clutches.”  She pressed her lips together, her nostrils flaring.  “I will not allow Kieran to live his life under her shadow.”

Avexis thought for a moment. “Priestess, perhaps, and acolyte.  Not a servant, yet somehow, I serve.  In a way, I think, she serves me, as well.  ‘Those who rule must also serve.’  That’s what the voices say, at least.  Damned non-specific voices.”  

Conversation fell away as they penetrated deeper into the wilds of the Dales. Avexis stared around her, feeling the weight of unseen eyes upon her.  “It’s here,” she whispered, almost excited.  “Can you hear…”

“Yes,” the other woman hissed.

They emerged into a clearing, with an odd statue at the end. “That’s it,” Avexis, despite her nervousness, Fadestepped to reach the monument.  The whispers in her head spoke of time passed, inserting the picture of a new shrine, one that wasn’t grown over with flowers and weeds.  She reached up, plucking the clinging vines free, but was unable to reach the twining laurel around the woman’s brow.  “Prophet’s Laurel,” she mourned.  “A shame I can’t stretch that far…”

“Leave it,” Morrigan’s voice was tinged with amusement. “It suits her, somehow, does it not?”  She tilted her head.  “Mother,” she mused.  “Yes, somehow… I see the resemblance.”

A voice echoed within Avexis’ mind. _Mother._ The sound of the largest of wings filled the air, and the two women spun.  A golden dragon landed heavily, the earth shaking enough to make her sway.

“Mother?” Avexis asked, and took a step forward. She sensed no danger from the creature, so she drew closer.  “Is that what Mythal is to you?”

_Is that what Mythal is to you?_ The dragon echoed.

_I believe I am her servant._ Avexis stared into the creature’s eyes.  _Who – or what are you? You’re so…_

_Servant? No.  Guardian._ The dragon bent its head down, and Avexis drew closer yet. _Who are you?_

_I am the Inquisitor,_ she spoke silently. _Avexis._

_Avexis,_ the dragon’s mouth gaped wide.  Avexis found herself transfixed by the eyes.  _You are bound, as I am bound. We are one._

Avexis felt a power release from her – pure and blue, a rhythmic pulse of energy, connecting her to the dragon. She was dimly aware of Morrigan’s surprised gasp behind her.  “We are one,” she repeated aloud, and with a mighty blast of power, the dragon knelt before her, as if bowing, and then – disappeared. 

She fell to the grass of the overgrown shrine. Her limbs quivering, unable to hold her up.  “What just happened?”

“The dragon was…” Morrigan shook her head. “The dragon was more than a dragon?”  She laughed, “Mysteries upon mysteries, Inquisitor.  What now?  Do the voices of ages past have any wisdom for us now?”

Avexis bit her lip, and the voices murmured urgently. _Become. Become!_

“I think… I think I’m supposed to become a dragon?” She said at last, laughing. “Absurd.  I haven’t been able to manage anything larger than a bear…” She met the witch’s eyes.  “Not that I’ve tried.”

Morigan’s eyes creased, and she smiled. “Mother could become a dragon, you know.  I wanted to learn, and tried many times.  I never managed to do it.  I don’t suppose you know of any dragons we could… discreetly observe?”

Avexis choked. “There is one.  Fairly close by – it lives in Ghilan’nain’s Grove, in the Exalted Plains.  But it’s… somewhat antagonistic.”

“There is such a thing as a friendly dragon? Will wonders never cease?”  Morrigan’s amusement traveled into the trees, disturbing a few birds nestled there.  “Come, let us go meet her…” she pursed her lips.  “If it goes wrong, after all, between you and I, we should be able to manage to defend ourselves adequately, don’t you think?”

Avexis blinked, “Morrigan, it’s a High Dragon. There are only two of us.  There’s no way… this dragon is surrounded by acidic springs.”

Morrigan’s lip curled. “Not my first choice then.”  She paused, “I admit, I didn’t pay much attention to your reports when you found the creatures.  How many live in the Dales?”

Avexis shivered, “Counting the Emprise du Lion?” She counted mentally, hesitating on the Guardian of Mythal before stubbornly eliminating it.  “Five?”

“And are any of them… conducive to allowing guests?” Morrigan’s mouth twisted.

“Not really,” Avexis concluded. “Every single one attacked when we got too close – even those not in the Dales.  Except when they were sleeping, or when we baited it, and…”  She paused, “We couldn’t possibly go to the Western Approach at this late date.  But there was – one.”

Morrigan waited, foot tapping against the ancient tiles, nearly overgrown with moss.

Avexis sighed, “I think we must take a trip to the Storm Coast.” She looked East, towards the direction of Skyhold.  “Cullen is going to kill me.”

“Quite possibly,” Morrigan agreed. “How inconvenient, to have to deal with a lover’s expectations of one’s behavior.”

“I suppose. Love does have its benefits, though.  Far less lonely is one,” Avexis countered.  She rose to her feet with difficulty, her knees still shaking beneath her.  “I would far rather deal with his disappointment, than live without him.  But it is far easier to ask forgiveness than permission to do something so… ill-advised.”

“How pragmatic of you, Inquisitor. I wonder, though, how long will his disappointment continue, before it becomes more troublesome than it’s worth?”  Morrigan stared off into the near distance, eyes far away.  “’Tis not an easy life, for an intimidating woman, Inquisitor.  Women such as we are not… comforting lovers.” 

Avexis flushed, and looked away, and deliberately chose not to answer. “We’ll travel directly to the Storm Coast.  Time is of the essence, and I’ll report in from one of our camps in the Dales on our way.” 

 

 

<EotD>

 

Cullen smoothed Avexis’ letter on the table before him, barely hearing Leliana and Josie’s excited chattering. “They found it, so it’s a success!” the women pressed onward.

They weren’t getting the full story. There was no talk of someone going to retrieve the bones of the animal, for one – and they were all in agreement before her departure that if killing a dragon proved necessary, they should make as much use of it as possible.

He slammed his fist into the table. “If it’s a success, then why aren’t they returning immediately?”  He glared at the other advisors.  “This side trip to the Storm Coast…”

“It must have to do with the dragon,” Josie fidgeted.

Leliana rolled her eyes, “I’m sure she’s fine, Commander. With her skills, she probably paralyzed it with Fear, and convinced it to surrender.”

“She can’t control a dragon without it’s blood,” he snarled. “And she is not a blood mage!”  He tossed the letter away from him.  “I’m going to the Storm Coast.  She shouldn’t keep us in the dark about her plans like this!”

Leliana lifted her chin, “Is this about us being kept in the dark, Commander, or is this about you and Avexis?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Cullen started toward the door.

“Josie and I are not complaining about not being privy to the Inquisitor’s intentions, Commander!” She called out after him. “Perhaps you should aim for a little trust?”

He barely paused before slamming the door shut, and stalking for his office. He did trust her, he argued immediately, if only in his head.  He trusted her with his own life, with all of these people’s lives.  She was the Inquisitor.  She was his love.  She was the woman he wanted to…

“Better stop thinking Curly,” Varric snarked in his general direction. “Your head will explode.”

He wordlessly snarled at the dwarf, but slowed his steps. “Varric…” he paused, wondering if he could possibly express his confusion.  When Avexis was there, he didn’t worry, but when she was gone…

“Come on,” the dwarf interrupted. “You need a drink, and a distraction, and with her Inquisitorialness gone, I can provide you with both.  Ale and maybe a game of Wicked Grace in the tavern?”

Two hours later, and four mugs of ale, and two shots of whisky later, Cullen sat, twirling the remains of the last shot in his glass. “Whisky,” he slurred.  “It’s her favorite.”  He sipped, and tears came to his eyes.  “Tastes like her…” he sniffed.

“Didn’t feel the burning need to know that, Curly,” Varric laughed, and waved the barmaid over. “Come on, have another.  You know, Hawke always says, that the problem with trying to change things is that things change, am I right?”  The door of the tavern banged open, and the dwarf started.  “Hey, Sparkler.  Tiny.  Join us?  I could use a little cheerfulness?”

“Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I’m not ready to change,” Cullen stared into his freshly refilled glass morosely.  “Maybe I can’t change enough to be worthy of her.”

“That’s just nonsense,” Dorian huffed, settled himself down next to him, and waved the barmaid over, but Bull ordered for him.

“Um, my man here will have two Fereldan Ales, and I want some of that fusty Nevarran crap they call Silent Plains Piquet, because he hates it when I go all Maraas-Lok when we’re drinking. Two of those, actually, since the Ambassador’s still coming.  Oh, and maybe some of those fried potatoes.  He secretly loves ‘em, and I’m paying.”  Bull was seemingly oblivious to Dorian’s furious red creeping past his popped collar.  “So maybe make that two orders, actually.”  He looked at Cullen and Varric, “You guys want anything?  Got paid for the last job that the Chargers did before we joined up. Josie came through.  Owe her a drink.  She should be here any minute…”

“I have no desire to drink with the other advisors,” Cullen tried to stand, and nearly fell over. “They say embarrassing things.  Tell me to act ‘pretty’, use me as bait.  I am _not_ bait!”

“Whoa, Curly,” Varric pressed him back down in the chair. “No one here thinks you’re bait.  You eaten anything today?”

“Speak for yourself,” Dorian winked at the Commander. “I’d join up, just for the pleasure.”

Cullen choked, but managed, “Yes. Avexis made sure I have meals delivered… Maker, I love her.  How will I manage if the dragons kill her?  I should be there… She takes care of me.  Of every one.  She buys toys for children, did you know that?  I don’t get to take care of her.  Why can’t I take care of her?”

“Shit. Back up a second.  Dragons?”  Bull tilted his horns sideways.  “Seriously?  That’s the super-secret operation Boss snuck away for?  Shit.”  The barmaid delivered his drinks with a wink, and he slapped her ass.  Dorian whacked his shoulder.  “Sorry, old habits,” Bull cleared his throat.  “You okay with that, Cullen?”  His eyes were wiser than his buffoonery suggested.

“She is the Inquisitor. I’m only an advisor.  It’s not for me to say what she can and cannot do,” Cullen glared at his drink.  “She drank from that Maker-forsaken Well without my input – without asking anyone… Even if she’d asked me, would she have listened?”

“She did ask. I know, because Cassandra was there.  She kept Bull late two days ago while she vented her ire on his hide,” Dorian sipped his ale genteelly.  “Avexis simply didn’t listen.  To anyone.  It’s a terrible habit of hers, asking forgiveness instead of permission.  If she weren’t so adorable and talented, there would be no standing for it.”

“I would have told her to do it anyway,” Bull grunted at the horrified expressions surrounding him. “What?  Makes sense.  Morrigan’s about as trustworthy as a mad Varghest.  Know all about those.”  He paused, “But what’s with all this junk about wanting to change?  You’re a good guy.  Being a little wobbly on all that hocus-pocus stuff isn’t a bad thing.  Nothing like a little caution to keep you healthy, am I right?”

Dorian snorted. “Look who’s talking!”

“Hey, I’m plenty cautious,” Bull winked. “With you, I have to be.  I’m not the one who gets excited and lights curtains on fire.”  Dorian blushed.

“I thought I could leave my past behind,” Cullen mourned to no one in particular. “I thought I could move past it, become the man I used to be.  Or even the man I wanted to be.”

Cole slipped out of a dark corner, whispering, and settled himself at the table. “The only one left.  Trapped in a bubble, can’t breathe, can’t hear anything but them.  Stop talking!  Stop asking!  Leave me!  Leave me be!”

“That’s enough, Kid,” Varric cut him off. “Look, Cullen…”

“I just wanted to be a better person,” Cullen broke in. “I left Kirkwall, wrote letters to Mia.  It’s not enough.  I’m not better.  I’ll never be.”

“Self-indulgent nonsense.” A new voice broke in, elegant and charming.

“Josie! Red!” Bull’s face lit up.  “Ready for that drink?”  He shoved his own untouched glass of wine at the spymaster and waved down the barmaid again.

Josie settled at the table with her usual grace, Leliana close behind. “The wine I requested?”

“Right here,” Bull handed it to her, large fingers delicately cradling the glass. “You were saying?”

Leliana looked at Cullen. “I would say, Cullen, that the Maker is probably testing you.  Trying to see how much you want to change.  And if that’s the case, then…”

“Then whether or not you fail the test is up to you,” Josie filled in, sipping with her eyes shut. “Oh, Bull, this is pleasant.  I needed this…”

“Hey, I owe you more than a drink,” Bull grinned, “That bastard holding out was costing us big time.”

“Well, as I said before, you did perform the service requested, if in an… unorthodox manner,” Josie allowed. “It’s not your fault the man he sent to guide you made a better door than a window.  Now then, Commander…”

Cullen had sat up, staring at his drink, and at his friends with newfound determination. “I will not fail.  Not this.  I won’t let Corypheus win!”

Dorian looked confused, “What does Corypheus have to do with whether the Commander…”

“Shhh, Sparkler,” Varric winked. “Curly here needs a purpose in life.”

Cullen shoved himself up from the table, “Damn it, Meredith, I love her! You can’t have HER either!  And I won’t let Uldred get in the way of how I feel!” 

“Who is Uldred?” Josie whispered to Leliana.

“A blood mage from Kinloch Hold. Dead now.  Alistair killed him, or was it Her?  Can’t remember which.  In any case, definitely dead.  Wynne kicked him in the balls on the way past.  Not so much as a twitch.” Leliana smiled at the memory, and took a sip of wine.  “Dead.  Very, very dead.”

Dorian frowned quizzically at Varric. “My question is, what does the lunatic from Kirkwall have to do with this?”

“Lotta rumors about that one. One of them was that Knight Commander Whack-a-doodle had a thing for Curly.  Played on his paranoia.  Gave him extra lyrium to make it worse.  That kinda shit.  Don’t know for sure, but it makes sense.  Blondie was crazy, but Meredith made him look like an amateur.”  Varric took a deep wig from his mug.  “Shit, I miss home.”

“No demons get to ruin my life,” Cullen’s eyes narrowed.

“You tell ‘em, Commander!” Bull lifted his mug.

“I’ll drink to that,” Dorian mused, sipping.

Cullen pointed at Varric, slamming his opposite hand on the table. The wine in the glasses quivered.  “You. You said something about Wicked Grace.  I want to play.”

“Umm…” Varric hesitated, “I have no objection to taking all your money, Curly, but you’re drunk off your ass right now. Your Ladybird will fry me like a nug if I took advantage of you.  Raincheck, maybe?  Perhaps when her Inquisitorialness rolls back in, and you’re seeing straight.  I’ll rob you blind, then, with pleasure.”

Cullen weaved on his feet. “I’m not drunk.  Just… tipsy.”

“Tipping over, more like,” Dorian snorted.

Sighing, Leliana rose. “I’ll take him to his room.”

“I can find my own bed, you know. It’s the tower with a hole in the roof.  Avexis likes the hole.  She climbs the tree…”  Cullen’s voice trailed away, and he wiped his eyes.  “She even scared Bruce there…”

“No way is he going to be able to climb a ladder,” Bull grunted. “Take him to the Inquisitor’s room.”

Josie frowned. “That is extremely improper…”

“Nah, it’s not like she’s home,” Bull waved her objections down. “Everyone knows about them anyway, and he’ll sleep better there.”  He weighed Cullen with a narrow eye.  “Hey, Kreme de la Krem!”

“Yeah, Chief?”

“Go get the Seeker and tell her that her and Blackwall are gonna be on point for afternoon drills. Cullen’s out of commission.  Needs a long nap, and an elfroot potion afterward.”

“Sure thing!” Krem shifted his bottle to a table and dashed out of the tavern.

“I will be worthy of her,” Cullen glared menacingly at his companions. “You’ll all see…” he glowered.  Leliana rolled her eyes.

“Come, Commander. Let’s go for a nice lie down…”

“And this,” Varric waved his hand at the Commander.  “Is why you never mix ale and whisky, my friends.”

 


	71. Aftermath, Shocks, and Aftershocks

Cullen woke in a familiar room – but one that he hadn’t spent much time in at all. Confused, and, he noted with a groan, most definitely hung over, he sat up, only to promptly lay back down, stomach churning.

His desire to rise and quit wasting what was left of the day warred with his body’s determination to vomit if he moved too much. “Traitor,” he moaned to his gut, which gurgled menacingly in answer to the vibration of spoken words.

A captive to his own weak body, he closed his eyes, allowing the streak of sunlight that shown through the open doors to stain the inside of his eyelids red, and warm his face, while he tried to convince himself that getting drunk with the dwarf the night before was a mistake.

It didn’t work.

Despite all the horrid symptoms - ones he hadn’t experienced since a particularly bad night at the Spoiled Princess just after he joined the Templars at Kinloch, a night that all but convinced him that revelry was highly overrated – the alcohol induced epiphany remained.

He had a new understanding of what it meant to want to be with his Ladybird. More than just a simple relationship. More than petty revenge to Meredith, and Gregoir, and Uldred, and the Chantry that had tried to teach him that mages and Templars were natural enemies.

And more than just a symbol of how far he could run from the Chantry’s imposed limits.

It had taken getting drunk with Varric – damn the dwarf’s hide – to realize those had even been part of his attraction to Avexis in the first place.

Avexis deserved better. She’d been judged dangerous and unfit for society for her entire life.  From her earliest days with a Dalish clan, to her First Enchanter encouraging her to become Tranquil…

It was a miracle that she was still able to be open with him at all. It would be far easier for her to hide everything she was. She had been the brave one. From the start, she had been honest with them both, he had been the one that lied. He lied to himself, not her, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. She deserved better than that.

Only a handful of people had ever dared tell her she was good enough the way the Maker made her. Galyan, Cassandra… and damn it, Cullen wanted to be added to that number.  It shouldn’t have taken him this long to figure out what she’d been trying to tell him since that first night in Haven.

But he understood now. And he wouldn’t waste any more time on doubt, and questions, and the queasiness of Templar cowards.  He forced his eyes open to stare down the offending daylight, and the obnoxious chattering of Leliana’s ever-spying ravens, Silky not among them.

He knew what he had to do. It only remained to do it.  Nothing of her odder talents mattered – whether it was dragons, or animals, or even those bestowed upon her by Maker-take-her Mythal.  Underneath everything she used to define herself, she was his Ladybird, and for some Maker-be-damned reason she loved him.  He was going to spend the rest of his life making up for the beginning of hers – if she would allow it.

His confidence fought with his neuroses for a few moments before he chanced a stretch. His hand bumped a bottle, sending it teetering dangerously close to the edge of his Ladybird’s nightstand.  With a start, and drink-dulled reflexes, he grabbed and just caught it, noting the scrawled phrase resting next to it, as soon as the glassware was safely in his shaking hand.

Leliana’s handwriting. So she was responsible for his resting here.  A marvel that Josie had allowed it at all.

The note was brief, and to the point, like most of her correspondence to him since the war began.

_Drink this, when you are finished chastising yourself. Bull and Cassandra want to discuss the Keep’s defenses when you have recovered sufficiently._

Would the work never end? Cullen sighed and remembered Leliana’s words from the day before. 

Was the Maker truly testing his willingness to change? Was his success merely a matter of refusing to fail – refusing to fall into fear as he so often had before?

The note crumpled in his fist, as he picked up the potion, and in a swift, decisive movement, he drank it down.

Varric was right – he needed a purpose in life. The war – the Inquisition, even – wouldn’t last forever.  Someday, perhaps sooner than anyone expected, he would be able to do something else and to live as he chose. Maker help him, he chose to live with her.

A picture insinuated itself gradually into his head. He was at his parent’s home, and Avexis was at a large spinning wheel tucked into a corner.  She spun, the movements both graceful and contained, the machine humming as she worked, dressed in something chosen for comfort instead of for the purpose of impressing anyone.

He imagined himself sprawled out in front of the fire, book in hand, reading aloud, in a simple shirt and breeches with no armor to get in the way of his comfort and weigh him down.

A simple life, with no need for uniforms or rank or protection from non-existent enemies.

His breath caught on the emotions the vision invoked, and he coughed, as if it were the elfroot tincture instead of longing.

She said she wanted to be with him. Stay with him.  He certainly wanted to stay with her.  And this… this was the most concrete plan of all their hazy daydreams.

Maker’s Breath, was he brave enough to claim it?

He pulled himself from her bed, and stumbled to the desk, pulling out parchment and ink. 

He must write to Mia. Immediately.  A plan like this required tactics, strategy, and boldness.  Mia might refuse, just to be contrary, but… somehow, he didn’t think her obstinacy would get in the way this time.

And in a battle like this – the victory would be worth the work.

 

<EotD>

 

Salt spray hit Avexis’ face even from as high up as the ledge at Morrin’s Point. Far beneath her, the churning waves slammed and splintered against the rocky cliff.  They’d spent an uncomfortable night in the fisherman’s shack, avoiding Inquisition encampments for the questions they’d ask.  It had been a sleep haunted by voices.

One in particular, more curious than ever. “There,” she pointed to the hazy outline of an island.  “The dragon is there.”

“A sensible dragon, to place itself so far from civilization,” mused Morrigan. “How do you suggest we get there?”

“We’re going to the restored port Cullen built for us,” Avexis hesitated at the idea of letting the Inquisition’s people know where she was going, but gestured to the entrance all the same. “There will be a boat there, and we’ll row out to the island.”

Morrigan was quiet, “You can row?”

“Not really,” Avexis pushed her damp hair out of her eyes. “But it’s not far.  Can you?”

“No.” The witch cleared her throat.  “But… we could fly.”

Avexis laughed. “That would be the sensible answer.  Discreet, and simple.  It’s a wonder I didn’t think of it first.”

“You hold too tightly to your upbringing, Inquisitor,” Morrigan purred, and transformed. “To the island then.  You lead the way.”  She frowned, “I wouldn’t know which you were pointing to.  I can barely sense the creature at all.”

Perhaps an hour later, they landed on a rocky beach, littered with the bones of wrecked boats and their occupants. “Perhaps not such a friendly dragon,” Avexis hesitated, looking up at the steep climb.  Far above, a dragon waited – the impression of patient recognition heavy in her head.  “But it doesn’t seem… hungry.”

“You make no omelets without breaking eggs,” Morrigan criticized and marched forward. “Come.  I cannot sense her like you can – but I know she is here, listening.  Speak, and she will listen.”

Where ever could she begin? _We’ve come to speak with you,_ Avexis tried.

_Imagine that,_ the dragon mused. _Whatever for?_

_We need your help,_ Avexis prompted.

_Stranger yet. Are you sure this isn’t a trap?  That you aren’t going to lay into me with axes and magic?_ Despite the accusations the dragon didn’t seem angry, just… intrigued. _I’ve killed people who tried before._

_Are those the remains of them, on the beach?_ Avexis stopped walking, trying to catch her breath.  Had she ever been so frightened?  The idea of summoning Mythal’s dragon hadn’t intimidated her this way…

_Those are the remains of fools. They tried to cross the Waking Sea in poor weather,_ Now the dragon sounded tired.  _I tried to guide them through the rocks, and they panicked. They drowned and washed up here.  Even inadequate chainmail is still heavy in water.  But what could you possibly want from me?  I keep to myself, mostly._

_I want to make a deal,_ Avexis tried to make her mental voice sound firm.  _I will promise you free reign of the area, as long as you harm no person that doesn’t try to hurt you first, if… you let me and my companion watch you.   For a while.  As long as it takes to… change._

_Oh, little one,_ the dragon sighed. _You make such demands._

_It’s not that onerous,_ Avexis huffed mentally, only to be interrupted.

_Let me finish._ The dragon snapped mentally.  _As I was saying, as I’m already abiding by them, I will submit. For now, at least.  And you are attempting such - amazing things.  It’s harder than you realize, to go back, you know.  You will have to change so much… you might decide you like this form better._ Picking an image from Avexis’ mind the dragon continued. _The man with the yellow hair is your mate? Perhaps you will want to go back. I will not lie – mine is a lonely life.  Still, it’s too early to tell._

_We must try._ The two mages reached the top of the hill, now surrounded by stone.  Avexis was all too aware that if the dragon attacked, they were dead.  There was no place to hide, here.  _Corypheus threatens us all. You’ve seen his work, on the Coast.  The ones that are wrong, and red._

_Yes._ The word hissed in her mind.  _I have. Very well, then.  I will allow your visit._ She sounded as regal as Vivienne. _Come up, and we will begin._

Avexis came out from behind a large rock, to see the dragon coiled in the far of a wide clearing, surrounded by Prophet’s Laurel and Felandaris. “I’m here,” she said aloud.

The dragon winced. _Don’t shout at me, child. Speak quieter.  Your… friend might not be privy to the conversation, but we should at least attempt to be civilized. Sit, and listen, and be.  That’s what those raucous voices in your brain keep telling you, isn’t it?_

_How did you know…_

_I hear everything._ The dragon hissed, lightening crackling around her jaw.  _Why do you think I live so far away from all of it? The storms and salty surf help mute the clamor of your people.  Now, cease the chattering and listen. I’m too old for this shit._

Avexis settled down, crosslegged on the rough ground. The green smell of crushed laurel, and the subtle spice of felandaris rose around her, and she breathed, deeply.  Morrigan, after a moment, followed, and Avexis felt her power expand, and surround them both.  Her own aura swelled, engulfing the other woman’s and the dragon’s as well.  She floated, alone, and became.

She lost track of time, and the voices cleared. In her mind, she saw.

_The Flemeth she knew confronted a younger Hawke on the edge of the Blight, dealing with the young woman for her life. Time spun back, and a frailer version of the Witch of the Wilds cackled at a dark-haired elf with narrow eyes and a young Warden warrior who would be king one day, mocking a daughter while giving her everything she ever wished for at the same time._

_The thread snapped and rewove itself, and a young woman warrior in the armor of a Fereldan noble, well-used and well-cared for, watched the man she loved and man she would marry, leave together, with the witch. She felt all the pain of mingled duty and heartbreak, and the touch of the coming Blight, overshadowing the woman._

_The cloth unraveled even further, and she struggled to see the pattern – flashes of other women, other daughters, and even, upon occasion, men, whose lives Mythal had touched and changed – an elaborate design of intermingled fate and chance until she reached what she had always thought was the original story._

_Two lovers, a mage and a bard. Poor but happy, in a little house.  A lord of a grand Keep, and unwelcome attentions.  A husband killed, a rescue that never came.  A woman crying out for justice, as her rapist and captor lost interest and left her to die.  A spirit coming, blending with her, each of them consuming the other._

_The threads spun backwards then, into a dizzying snarl of long-lived elves, swearing themselves to the service of a kind-eyed woman who looked upon them as children. A Mother, caring for her young._

_A quick flash of the woman with an elf who looked vaguely familiar – the two arguing, fighting over something… but it was gone, without leaving much of an impression except for grief at the thought of what must be done, and why, and the pain of loss._

_Strangely, she had the memory of dying – several deaths, some more lasting than others, at the hands of heroes and villains alike, but also of resurrection, on an altar in the Free Marches, of emerging, whole and well, as if she’d never been gone…_

The mental thread snapped abrupt – like scissors slicing through. Avexis’ lungs burned, and she gasped for air, the spell broken _. What the fuck was that?!_

_Memories._ Morrigan’s voice was clear now, and Avexis opened her eyes.

She was surrounded by dragons. A dragon on her right and left, with golden claws.  A purple dragon with golden eyes in front of her, those eyes oddly familiar… and another dragon in the back, still laying down, as if she’d seen and done everything before.  She shifted backwards in surprise, and the golden dragon moved with her.

She was the dragon. _Merde…_ she whimpered.

_Success, it would seem._ Morrigan’s voice was smug indeed.

_Odd, that mortals can manage it. Color me impressed.  And now, there is no reason for you to stay any longer, certainly._ The Storm Coast dragon sounded wistful.  _I doubt you would be interested in returning? The days here are long, and lonely.  You would be welcome._

Avexis blinked. _You want… company?_

The dragon inclined her head. _I am long past the days of mates and dragonlings. I have no interest in such things.  But conversation tempts – and yours is a tidy mind.  Well trained, I believe._

_Then I will return._ With difficulty, she transformed back, limp and exhausted, and slumped against a rock.  _I’m very tired. Could we stay here tonight?  To sleep?_

_You trust me so much?_ The dragon feigned shock, and then a deep rumble shook the earth. _Stay then._

Morrigan released the form as well, falling to her hands and knees. “At least,” she murmured, “We can match Corypheus’ dragon?”

“Close to it, I believe. We only have to deal with the power the red lyrium gives it,” Avexis whispered, mindful of the noise.  She settled to the ground, and pulled her cloak around her.  “I have to sleep.  I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Morrigan leaned back against a rock and closed her eyes.  “I need rest as well.  We are safe enough.  For now.”

They departed the next day, a pair of ravens winging back to Morrin’s Point, alighting on the ground next to the hut. They were halfway back to the Inquisition’s closest camp before Avexis finally spoke.  “Let’s not tell anyone what happened.”

“Agreed.”

“We’ll just say we can match Corypheus’ dragon,” Avexis urged.

“’Tis best.”

“And we’ll say nothing except that the Storm Coast dragon is to be left alone. Permanently.”  Avexis’ voice shook.  “She’s no danger to anyone, even the Blades of Hessarian.”

“You’ll hear no argument from me,” Morrigan’s eyes flashed. “Such mysteries are better preserved than destroyed.”

 


	72. Grace, Love, and Silence

Avexis slunk back into the Keep a few days later, a few pounds slimmer, and the days of long travel and strange occurrences muddying the purple of her eyes to a darker hue. Cullen met her at the gates, brimming with anticipation.

She touched his cheek and he leaned into it, before he noticed the sad lines around her eyes. “What is wrong, love?”

She shook her head, and he followed, his own excitement at his secret plans retreating in the face of her stress and worry. “Ladybird…”

“Je suis creve,” she interrupted, gentle. “Forgive me, Cullen, but I need to sleep.”

“Should I join…” Cullen hesitated, aware of spying eyes, and noted that Avexis did as well. His heart sank into his gut.  This was no triumphant victorious return of the Inquisitor, sure of her victory over an ancient enemy.  This was… something else.  “What happened?”  His voice was harsh, untrusting, and he tried to soften the demand for information.  “I mean, can’t you tell me?”

Her eyes shut tight, and she withdrew her hand from his face. “I can’t.  Not yet.  Please try to understand, Commander.  I’m sorry, but…”

“I see,” her retreat into professionalism straightened his spine. “I understand completely, of course.”  He pressed his lips together, unsure how to proceed.  But it was just as well that Mia had yet to reply to his missive.  “I’ll allow you to retire then, Inquisitor.  Sleep well?”

He began to turn away, even as Avexis lifted her hand again, as if to stop him, only to let it fall a second time. “Perhaps, perhaps that is best.”  She turned away towards the stairs.  “We will speak tomorrow, Commander?”

“Tomorrow then,”

“A demain,” Avexis whispered, and let him go.

That night, his bed had never felt so cold. The stars in the sky were icy in their judgement, glaring down at him for not pressing for details.  Even as a Commander instead of a lover, he had every right to expect an explanation.  Could she call on the dragon the voices had hinted at?  Could they meet Corypheus, when the bastard showed himself?

Did she still…

He gripped his pillow firmly, and shoved such thoughts out of his head. She’d been on a long journey – one that she’d finished in record time, no doubt by traveling part of the way as… something other than a human.  He refused to let himself shy away from the fact.  It was fine.  It brought her home safely.

But she was scared. Scared of him – of his reaction.  How could he show her he wasn’t going to judge…

He flung himself out of his bed and made his way downstairs, to the never-ending paperwork that always awaited his attention.

The answer rested on top. A report from the dragon hunting party in the L’Emprise.  Dragon eggs, confirmed living, after the death of the three dragon Avexis had ordered them to kill, due to their territorial nature and proximity to other life.

Dragon eggs. Baby dragons.  Dragonlings.  Cullen lifted his quill, and began to write a letter to Frederick of Serault.

He had some questions about the incubation period of dragon eggs, and what they needed to hatch, at the very least. And perhaps at most… at most he had an invitation for the man, to come to Skyhold and join their researchers.

He highly doubted the Empress of Orlais would want the University of Orlais to be harboring dragonlings, after all.

Even if they were for research purposes only.

 

_< EotD>_

 

Avexis was a mess of emotions. Cullen was being cold, Cassandra was distracted by who knows what, and she didn’t want to be alone, even while all she longed for was silence.

It seemed her encounter with the ‘Guardian’ had increased her sensitivity, yet again. She was nearly convinced that there was yet another dragon, further south along the Frostbacks, among the Avvar living there.  Josie had immediately agreed to contact their chieftain, in order to warn them and ask for advice, but… this particular dragon seemed overly quiet.

But perhaps it was just distance.

Still, she was avoiding her friends. There were a million excuses, after all.  Skyhold’s defenses to shore up, A million minor issues to resolve in Orlais – everything from helping a couple elope to escape the grasp of an overeager matchmaker – which Cullen, blushing, was all too ready to help with, much to Leliana and Josie’s amusement, to the distribution of the dragon bones that were the result of the Inquisition’s successful hunts in the Emprise du Lion.

Those deaths haunted her, but she couldn’t grieve right now. The dragons or the people - she had to choose - and those people had enough hardship, lately. 

She expected for Cullen to come find her, confront her about her mental distance, and demand that she share her burden, but in the end, it was Varric who cornered her in the Great Hall in between trips to Leliana and Josie.

“There you are! We were afraid we were going to have to start without you!”

“Maker forbid you start without me,” she managed a small smile for the dwarf’s benefit. “What are you starting, exactly?”

“Just come on,” Varric tugged at her. “Even Curly’s playing.”

Avexis winced. “I don’t know, Varric.  I have… I have a lot to do…”

“Ladybird,” Varric waggled his finger. “I know the look of someone keeping themselves too busy to think.  You’re neglecting yourself, and – someone else.” 

Avexis pursed her lips. “Cullen knows how important…”

“Exactly my point,” Varric pressed. “You both need to kick back, relax a bit, before Corypheus takes one look at you and you both explode.  So, come on.  You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.  The rest of us can do the talking for you.  I know you’ve got a secret that needs keeping.”

“It’s not a secret,” she protested, flushing. “It’s just… I don’t know how to explain.”  That was true enough.  ‘Bonjour, mon amour and mes amis, I can turn into a creature that embodies everything everyone fears,’ seemed like a poor start.

“I don’t know, Varric,” she began again. “I’m not great company these days.”

“Nonsense. You’ve been stressing out since you got back from the Arbor Wilds.  Just play a bit.  Have a few drinks.  Lose some of that money you don’t know how to spend.”  Varric winked.  “Josie told me how much she’s stashed away for you.  So grab some, and let’s get a move on.”

“Very well,” she abandoned herself to the rogue’s idea of time well-spent. “Allons-y.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Her friends cheered as she entered, though Cullen didn’t meet her eyes, choosing instead to rise. “You have plenty of people, and I have a million things to do…”

“Sit down, Curly. This was your idea.”

“What?” Her Commander sputtered helplessly, “I would never… propose…” he flushed, unaccountably, and closed his mouth with a click of firm teeth.

“Well, you were pretty deep in your cups,” Bull guffawed, and picked up a crispy something-or-other, one of Cabot’s many specialties, crunching into it, and scattering crumbs. “But yeah, most of us were there to witness it, Cullen.  You volunteered.” 

Josie fluttered over the cards in front of her. “I will deal.  Oh, I hope I remember how to play!  It’s been so long…”

Avexis narrowed her eyes at the woman. “I’m in,” she started to pull her coin purse free – pretty light, as most of her money stayed in the vault – and rested it on the table.  Flashing money made people greedy and stupid.  Winning at something for a change might be fun…

Across from her, Cullen looked vaguely desperate. She smiled to put him at ease, and changed her mind.

Varric was right – Cullen looked bad. Worn down and grief-stricken.  Had the Arbor Wilds hit him so hard?  Surely it wasn’t just her absence… but there was a way to draw him out of himself.  As she’d often told Galyan – it was far more fun to lose.

She lost the first, and second hands, and made a point of winning the third – up against Dorian – just to prove she wasn’t totally inept, to keep her friends believing it was just bad luck. Cullen relaxed, and told a hilarious story about his time as a recruit, and her own tension eased with his.  She urged Varric to tell a story, and winking, the dwarf told her about a Duke and his pet wyvern, and a visit to his manor.  “And then Hawke turned, with the sunset casting her into a glowing shadow, smirking at Broody, Tallis, and I, and said, ‘It seems the Duke has fallen from grace!’” 

She laughed harder than the story warranted, while Bull’s eyes grew thoughtful. “Shit, that was Hawke who recovered the list then?  Heard about that crap.  The higher ups were freaking out, big time.  I owe her a drink…”

“Not for a few months yet, Bull,” Varric shook his head. “Broody’s gone all broody over Stabbity and Stabbity, Jr.  Will hardly let her out of his sight.”  He smiled, a little tenderly.  “Just as well.  Wasn’t sure how that was gonna go, honestly.  But they’ll be all right now.”

Avexis lost the fourth hand spectacularly against her lover, who seemed shocked as he gathered his bluffed winnings towards him. “How did that… I mean… I knew you were bluffing,” he blustered, blushing.

He had so many tells. It was endearing.  Avexis leaned on one hand, and sipped her whisky like a lady.  “Couldn’t have our Commander losing his shirt, after all.”

“Oh!” Josie clapped her hands. “Are we playing for _clothes_?”  She bounced in her seat.  “Do say yes!”

“Why not,” Bull guffawed, “I’ve got a handicap that way.” He blinked his one eye deliberately at Dorian, who fluttered his eyelashes.  “Don’t mind showing the goods for a good time.”

Cassandra grumbled, “Ugh,” but her lips twisted up in a reluctant smile, Rylen – not playing, just observing, leaning over her shoulder and whispering. 

After that, it took nothing to strip Avexis down to her breastband and smalls.

It took far too long for Cullen to clue in, narrowing his eyes at her innocent expression, and even longer before Cassandra elbowed her in the ribs. “Stop losing on purpose!” The woman hissed. 

“Why?” Avexis whispered back. “I’m having fun…”

“UGH!” Cassandra threw her cards down. “I’m done.  I don’t want to witness what happens next.”  Rylen stood up from his chair, and Varric averted his eyes when the two of them departed together.

Cullen pressed his lips together, and anted up. He bet all his money, and Avexis matched him, until only three of them were left – Josie, Avexis, and him.  “Fold,” he ordered Avexis.  “I know you’ve got nothing, and the Inquisitor cannot lose her smallclothes in the tavern.  She’ll never live it down, and it’ll give the Ambassador days of extra work to stop the rumors.”

“I can win if I want to,” Avexis sassed back.  “Somebody ought to get me out of my smallclothes after all.  Nobody’s been near them but me for weeks.”

Cullen grinned. “If you weren’t the Inquisitor, I’d make you eat those words.” 

“I’d make you eat more than that,” she batted her eyelashes, and Josie coughed.

“Come, both of you,” the Ambassador challenged. “Are we playing one last hand, or not?”

“Deal me in,” Cullen grinned. “I’ve long since figured out your tells.”

“A lady has no tells, Commander.”

“Oh, I have all the tells,” Avexis ran her bare foot up the inside of his leg. “I’ll tell you all about them, if you let me lose.”

“Avexis, stop,” he ordered helplessly. Dorian giggled, cuddled in Bull’s lap.  “This is ridiculous.  Let me spare you the humiliation…”

“Who’s humiliated?” Avexis sniggered.  “Not me.”  She tossed her head.  “I bet it all.  She stood up, and made to strip off her breastband.

“STOP!” Cullen stood up. “Two can play this game.”  He shrugged out of his coat, and pulled off his breeches, his eyes daring her to keep going.  His shirt landed on the top of the pile, and then he adjusted it, trying to pile it so that it hid her assets, Avexis assumed.  “If you’re so determined to bare yourself…” in the background, a dozen Inquisition soldiers began to mutter.  “AS YOU WERE!” He ordered without looking.

Avexis watched, trailing her fingers along the tabletop as if she were tracing his abs. “Do keep going, Commander.  I could watch this all day.” 

“You are a demon,” he hissed at her, and tossed his smallclothes onto the pile, sitting down on the chair before Dorian could crane his head to see him properly. “You’ve already seen what I have already, so there’s no reason for me to be… modest.”

“Mmm, good memories,” purred Avexis.

Josie’s cheeks were pink as she dealt quickly. “Inquisitor…”

Avexis stood again, and stripped, dropping the last of her clothing on the top of the pile, and flipping over the Angel of Death.  She grinned, and traced a small circle on the inside of Cullen’s thigh with a single toe.  “You win, Josie, unless the Commander cares to call?”

“I’m not going down without a fight,” Cullen’s eyes never left hers, though his fingers tapped the table. “I have two Songs and two Knights.”

“Something like that,” Avexis smirked at him. She had all four Songs resting in her hand, face down on the table.  “You already know I have nothing.”

“And I have four Serpents. So… the dealer takes all,” Josie beamed.  “Thank you all for a lovely evening.” She scooped her winnings – including the clothes – into the skirt of her tunic.

Everyone around them stood and drifted away, Dorian very reluctantly indeed. “You first,” Cullen stared her down, as the last of the occupants of the tavern left.

“At the same time,” Avexis challenged him. “I happen to know that Cabot keep spare aprons behind his counter.  With that and a bar towel, I can get to safety.  They’ll never wrap around you.”

Cullen braced his hands against the table and sprinted for the counter, Avexis only a step behind. She Fadestepped to get there before him, but he grabbed her hand, and pressed her up against the counter.  “Cheat,” he murmured, her hand drifting lower.  “You had the winning hand.  Josie had nothing but a pair of Serpents.”

“It’s not cheating if you’re playing to lose.”

“You could have taken nearly every hand,” he grumbled, cupping her backside. “You lost on purpose!  I thought Cassandra was lying, back in Haven, when she said you never took a single game seriously.”

“You knew?” Avexis trilled.  “You knew, and you…”

“Why do you think I was losing so badly! I was trying to spare you some indignity…”

Avexis shoved herself up on the counter, and wrapped her bare legs around him. Cullen groaned, his head falling forward.  “My hero.  How will I ever repay you?”

“I sacrificed everything for you, my money and my dignity,” Cullen agreed, and ran his hands up her legs. He hesitated, before whispering, “Perhaps a kiss?  If you want…”

Avexis threw herself at him before he could finish. Skin against skin rubbed, both of them impatient.  “Here?” She suggested.

Cullen only groaned, and climbed up on the counter to cover her. “I can’t believe where you take me.” 

“You’re the one taking me,” Avexis contradicted. “In the Rest…”

Under the table a sleepy voice muttered. “Whazit?  Did I win?”

Cullen rolled Avexis off the counter, covering her with his body, and her mouth with his hand. She bit him.  “Not in front of Sera!”  He hissed, as the elf stood and stretched, and wandered back upstairs to her room, cackling at nothing and scratching her leg.  Avexis licked his palm.

Cole slunk out of nowhere, eyes wide. “I didn’t know it came off!”

“Cole!” Cullen laughed hopelessly. “A blanket, Cole.  The Inquisitor…”

“She’s not cold,” Cole frowned. “She’s too warm.  Hot skin, burns against hers.  Been too long, thanks to the stupid dragons.  She wants you to…” His eyes went wider.  “I… I think that’s private.  But she’s sorry she didn’t come see you.  She wants to tell you…” He frowned.  “You really ought to say it yourself,” he criticized.  “Before you go.”

Avexis laughed, nervously. “I know.  I will.  Probably…”

“Good,” Cole nodded seriously. “I will get a blanket for the Commander.  She doesn’t care who sees her.”  He wandered upstairs, returning after a few minutes with a wool blanket.  “Bull won’t need it tonight,” he informed Cullen seriously.  “Dorian will keep him warm.”

“Right,” Cullen took the blanket and wrapped it around Avexis. “Thank you.”

"That was for you,” Cole protested. “You’re the one embarrassed!”

“Over nothing,” Avexis rolled her eyes, and slapped his ass. “Come on, then.  If you’re so determined to be chivalrous, at least share the blanket with me.”  She opened one side, and he moved closer to shield her from the other man’s point of view.

Cullen allowed her to wrap the blanket around him. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Cole.”

“Oh, you want me to go. Right,” Cole nodded, and drifted away. 

“Finally,” muttered Cullen, fisting the edges of the blanket – enveloping Avexis around her upper arms – at the corner of his hip. “Teach him to take a hint, love?”

Avexis fidgeted with the hem of the wool. “Cullen, I… I have something I should tell you.” 

“It’s all right,” he soothed. “I know… I know something happened, while you were gone.  I don’t want you to force yourself to tell me, either.”  He sighed, and dropped the blanket, in favor of turning to hold her chin.  “I trust you.  Whatever is it, whatever you have to do – I love you.”  He bent to kiss her, a brief touch of lips that turned into something fiery.

“Merde,” Avexis panted, and dropped the blanket. “You’re sexy when you’re trying to be nice.”

Cullen smirked, “Nice?” He pulled her closer yet, and laid her down.  “I’m tired of being nice tonight.”

The blanket bunched at her shoulders, as he moved down her body. “Cullen,” she whined, and he reached up to take her hands out of his hair.

“No,” he ordered, and placed them on her stomach. “Keep them there.  No touching.”  He moved down to her legs, and nipped the inside of a thigh.  “You made me strip, to keep you company.  On purpose.”  He bit down a little harder.  “Admit it, Avexis.” 

“Oui,” she confessed, jerking at the feel of his teeth.

He molded her backside under his palm, and bit the other thigh. “You think it’s funny, to disgrace your Commander in public, do you?” 

“Non!” He sunk his teeth in harder, and sucked.  “Merde, fine!  Oui, I do.  I had more fun this way.  I don’t like Wicked Grace much… what’s the point of a game where you’re expected to cheat?”

“Neither do I.” He narrowed his eyes above her pelvis, and breathed.  “And you knew that going in.  You took an evening where I was trying to cheer you up and…”

“Made it better,” Avexis squealed when he nuzzled her deliberately. “I did!  We’re both having a lovely time…”

Cullen chuckled, “I would have done this at any point in the last week, Inquisitor.”

Avexis whimpered. “Don’t call me that.  I’m… I’m Ladybird, still, aren’t I?”

Cullen caught her eyes, dark and worried, and smiled gently, abandoning his retribution. “You are, and always will be, my Ladybird.”  He flowed upward, kissing her, and wrapping her arms around his body.  “Hold on,” he whispered, and lined himself up.

There was nothing gentle, or tentative about this lovemaking. Cullen claimed her, thrusting hard enough for the wool to rasp at her shoulders, a slow burn against her skin.  He arched his back, eyes open, daring her to close her own.

Avexis refused, her fingers scrambling to meet him coming, and shuddering when he drew away. “Cullen…”

He broke a moment after her, shivering, and bending over her protectively, catching himself on his arms. “I need you to remember this, Ladybird.  Repeat it.”  He kissed the tip of her pointed ear, sighing into it.  “I love you.  No matter what you do.”

“You… love me, no matter what I do.”

He kissed her jaw, moving down it slowly. “I love you, no matter what your magic does.”

“You love me, no…” her voice broke, and her eyes leaked, but she pressed on, “no matter what my magic does.”

Cullen kissed her mouth then, and she sobbed into him, tightening her arms around his neck as she wept. “I know, Ladybird.  It’s all right.  It will be well, I know it.”  He drew her up from the floor, and cradled her in his lap, pulling the blanket around them both.  “Corypheus will die, once and for all, and you – you will succeed, and come home to me.  You will always come home to me.”

Avexis nodded against his chest, still crying, but slowing. “Take me home, Cullen.”

Now completely unembarrassed, he rose, and carried her out the door and up the battlements to his room, careless of the mutters and giggles of the late-night residents of the Keep.

Wrapped in his arms, for once, Avexis slept, safe, comfortable, and warm, and unbothered by the voice of dragons.


	73. Twice Breached, Broken Orbs, and Bull Riding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hate to admit it, but this is the second to the last chapter of this fic. We'll wrap it up on Thursday.
> 
> The sequel is called 'Dawn's Tapestry', and we're hoping to launch it mid-September. It will cover the DLCs, but it will also cover things that aren't part of the games at all, as Avexis' story pulls away from Inquisition canon.
> 
> Keep an eye out as well for Varric's version of this world state, which is going to be called 'Spinning a Story'.

The War Meeting had just began, with Avexis sipping coffee and trying to catch Cullen’s embarrassed eye, when the Breach reopened, flooding the room with sick green light, and sparking an echo in her own mark that made her wince.

Outwardly, she only sighed, “That’s that then. Haven, do you think?”

“Haven,” Leliana confirmed with a practiced eye. “There’s nowhere else he could be hiding in that direction.  Most likely the Temple, to be precise. A type of… poetic justice.”

 “Figures that Corypheus would be about the symbolic nature of it all. Fucking poetry,” Avexis set the cup down gently.  “I’ll just be going then.  Josie – send a runner for the rest of my team.  We need everyone – with the Breach open, there will be demons, and I don’t think Corypheus will give me the time to kill them and him, too.”

“Scout Harding is already posted near there,” Leliana noted.  “I’ll send her a raven.  Her people will pave the way, Inquisitor.”

Avexis hesitated, and then shrugged. The story of her abilities would get out sometime, after all.  “Lady Morrigan, will you accompany me?” 

“Of course,” the woman’s mouth curled up. “Twouldn’t miss it.”

Cullen was already halfway down the hall, shouting orders at Josie’s runners, and calling for Rylen. The Great Hall was a mass of panicking nobles and servants, as Avexis darted after him, pulling him to the side.  “Let me pass, Inquisitor,” he ordered.  “We have a plan for this.  I have to…”

She yanked down on his neck and kissed him, his eyes wide and shocked at her forwardness. “I couldn’t leave without… I might not… you don’t know what I have to…”

“You will do what you must,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Nothing can stand in your way, even Corypheus.  Be safe, and come home to me.”  She nodded, once, and he turned.

“I’ll have another at your return!” He called back, trying to lighten the atmosphere. “Now, Maker speed your way!”

Avexis stepped out the main doors, and paused on top of the stairs. Cassandra was already waiting by the portcullis, and Avexis saw Blackwall, assisting Dennett with the mounts, making their way to meet her.  Bull and Dorian – the latter pulling on his tunic over a bare chest - were sprinting down from the battlements.

“It’s about time,” Sera yelled from her window, and vaulted over the roof and down into the puddle between the practice ring and the tavern, splashing the mud up her leggings, her bow and quiver strung across her back jostling with the impact. “Let’s go kick Corypenis innit!”  Avexis stopped and waited for her, before glancing up at Cullen’s tower, his officers and guards sprinting to their emergency stations.  She could almost hear him barking orders…

She glanced back at the hall, just to see Solas gliding down the front steps, Vivienne and Morrigan directly behind, all with staffs in hand and in full armor. Avexis’ eyes were drawn to his.  “You’re coming then?”  Her voice was stiff, but she managed a smile.  “Thank you, Solas.”

“I would see this through until the end,” his eyes were calculating, glinting. “There is still the orb to consider, after all.”  Avexis just nodded, unsurprised that, for the elf, it was all about the orb, and not the world and the people in it.  She made her way down the stairs, trailed by the archer and the other two mages.

“Lass?” a hoarse voice queried, and Cassandra started, and turned. Rylen stood, his forehead furrowed, but mouth turned up.  “I know you’ll give that bastard what-for,” he took her hand, and squeezed it.  “Just… get it done, will you?  Got things I want to do after this.  He’s in the way, if you get my meaning.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes, but didn’t remove her hand. 

“Yeah, yeah, we’re all here,” Varric laughed, coming at a run from the direction of the infirmary. “Sorry I’m a bit late – Hawke was in for a checkup, and she says Fenris isn’t allowed to come threaten the midwives anymore.  Makes them too nervous when he glowers and starts glowing.”  He blinked around and up at the Breach.  “Huh, guess he’s a bit desperate, then?  Let’s do this.”  He frowned, looking at all of them.  “Where’s the Kid?”

“Here,” Cole slunk in from the side door by the portcullis. “I didn’t want it to see me.  And you told me to practice hiding, Varric, so I can slip Leliana the honey in her wine.”

“Right,” Avexis took a deep breath, and the reins from Dennett. “Allons-y, then?”

Bull hoisted a blushing Dorian up on his horse, and bounced up on his dracolisk. “We got this, Saare-Boss.  Corypheus won’t know what hit him.” 

“He will if I’m the one who does it,” Cassandra mounted her horse like a queen.

“You tell ‘em, Lass,” Rylen murmured, and she nodded and rode out, not waiting for Avexis to lead the way.

 

_< EotD>_

 

Just outside the Valley, Avexis paused, glancing at Morrigan. “I’ve got something that I have to tell all of you.”

Cassandra groaned, “We don’t have time for confessions, Avexis. Let’s just…" 

“Once we’re in there, Morrigan and I… we’ll be taking care of the dragon. Alone.  So that you can all focus on Corypheus.”

“Whazzat?” Sera blinked, “How?”

 “We will become dragons ourselves,” Morrigan volunteered, as if it were the easiest thing she could imagine. 

“Shit…” Bull breathed, eyes wide. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Avexis gripped her left gauntlet wrist, wishing that her hand would stop needling her so relentlessly. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you, but… we decided it wasn’t something the average Inquisition soldier needed to know about their Inquisitor.  Easier to ask forgiveness, plausible deniability, or something like that.  So… Cassandra is going to lead the charge against Corypheus.”  She raised her eyes to Solas, whose eyes had narrowed, ever so slightly.  “Any issues or questions?”

“Not at all,” Vivienne assured her, mouth twitching slightly, her usual implacable demeanor almost cracked, but not quite.

Bull breathed out, “Can we _watch_?”  And Avexis couldn’t help it, she laughed.

“If you insist,” she grinned, and closed her eyes.

This time, it was more like a release than a struggle to find that dragon-self, and when she opened her eyes, it was to a world that glimmered with traces of magic. Morrigan’s purple dragon stood far behind the others, who had all backed away with her transformation.

“Shit, Ladybird,” Varric was the first to speak. “You’re… shiny.”

She smiled, and showed her teeth, and Sera gulped. “Shite.  Big.”  The archer pouted.  “You just get weirder.  Thought you were gonna tone down the scary mage shite? We talked about that… ‘Member? This is not getting less weird.”

Cole’s face was confused. “I thought you said you were going to change?”  He was the only one who stepped forward, reaching out a hand to touch her.  She lowered her muzzle, noting that she could hardly feel him through her scales.  “He wouldn’t be scared of you.  He thinks you’re beautiful,” he whispered.  Avexis blinked in thanks, realizing that dragons had no tear ducts.

“She is beautiful,” Bull’s eye had gone all dreamy. “Look, Dorian, she’s gone all Ataashi…”

Dorian hit his lover. “Stop ogling her, you… deviant.”  His moustache twitched, with humor or irritation, Avexis couldn’t tell.  “You are rather elegant,” he admitted after a moment.  “Gold and purple is an unusual combination, but it suits you.”  He sighed.  “Very well.  Kill the dragon, bella donna, and I have a brilliant idea – one that you can help with, if you aren’t too fatigued after the fact.”

“Gotta kill the dragon, first,” Blackwall rumbled. His eyes were scared, and he’d drawn his shield.  Avexis looked at him directly.  “It’s really you, in there,” he mumbled at meeting her eyes.  “If I hadn’t seen it…” he shook himself.  “We await your orders, Inquisitor.”  He laughed, harsh.  “Varric’s right.  No one is going to believe this shit.”

Avexis bobbed her head, and motioned forward with one claw.

One step into the Temple, and it groaned, shaking with tension as somehow, impossibly it began to break loose of the solid earth. She wanted to curse, but could only think, _Merde._

Morrigan’s mental laughter was tinged with nervousness. _Quite._

Red magic swirled, and Varric cursed, eloquently. “Fuck this!”  He drew Bianca.  “I’ve had enough floating rocks for one lifetime, Corypheus!  You’ve hurt too many people.  It ends here!”

Cassandra aligned herself next to him, as Corypheus seemed to enlarge himself. “He’s gathering mana,” she warned them all, attempting a dispel, that only bounced off the darkspawn magister.  “Varric, get back!”

Corypheus roared his defiance. “Did your Inquisitor not even care enough to meet my challenge?”  He towered above her friends – even Bull dwarfed by his height.  "She is wiser than I thought, to fear to meet a god!" Avexis dug her claws into the stone of the ruined Temple, a vent for her anger.  The edges began to crumble at the weight, and she took a step back.

Bull roared back, wordless and raging, and Cassandra and Blackwall braced themselves silently, but it was Sera who fired the first shot. “EAT IT!”

In the second of stunned silence that it took Corypheus to register the threat, the warriors already had their guard up, and Bull swung into a Whirlwind, hacking at the darkspawn’s legs. Varric and Sera flipped back away, searching for higher ground.  Avexis could only watch, knowing she and Morrigan were the trump cards for when he finally called his dragon to defeat her friends.

It would mean nothing if she was slain before the dragon appeared.

She prayed, desperately, hoping that someone was listening, while the Temple rose ever higher.

_We must retreat, for now._ Morrigan warned. _We can catch up later._ A puff of smoke emerged from her nostrils, and disappeared into the swirl of red magic. _We do have wings, if you remember how to use them?_

Avexis stepped off the edge of the Temple, and let the wind buffet her upwards. Far below, Scout Harding’s troops circled the demons, fighting, and Avexis ordered, _We should help them!_

_HOW?_ Morrigan demanded.  _If we get close, they will fire at us! We could get them killed!_

Helpless, despite her massive form, Avexis watched, and then tensed her muscles. On the horizon, there was a dot. _NOW!_ She screamed a battle cry, realizing only then that her scream would stun, as she launched herself into the sky. _She’s here!_ Below her, scouts and demons alike weaved, dizzy and confused.

_That may be useful,_ Morrigan observed, but she was a purple flash – faster by far than Avexis. _Time for rampant slaughter then? My, how this does bring back memories…_

_I do believe that slaughter is the idea,_ Avexis clenched her wide jaws, and flew straight up, spreading her wings wide in a taunt at the false archdemon, positioning herself so that the green of the Breach lit up her golden scales, and the rising sun caught her from behind.

_Very pretty, indeed,_ Morrigan’s amused voice echoed in her brain. _I believe our enemy has spotted us, Inquisitor._

The archdemon was flying even faster, darting and twisting around Avexis before she could react, but Morrigan was snapping at the creature’s legs, and in a massive curling moment, Avexis closed her jaws on the creature’s neck, and tore away.

Her opponent roared, and Avexis gagged, the hot metal taste of lyrium coating her tongue. 

_Fool,_ Morrigan chastised, _Leave the biting to me. I do not fear the corruption.  Scream, Inquisitor!  Stun her instead!_

Avexis obeyed, a scream that echoed into the valley walls, strong enough to trigger a dozen tiny avalanches. The false archdemon’s wings faltered, and it fell… Avexis dove after it.

_BREATHE!_ A new voice, one that she associated with rain and the smell of laurel and felandaris, bored into her brain. _You utter fool of a child, don’t you know your own strengths? Don’t tell me you didn’t even bother to practice…_ The dragon from the Storm Coast spat lightning, and the false archdemon recovered enough with the shock to spread its wings and glide to a safer distance.

Avexis, at once aware of the crackling in her jaws, coughed, and a small ball of electricity spat from her mouth.  _Souffle de Createur._  

The Storm Coast dragon laughed. _Not at all. Dragon’s breath, my dear.  Our most deadly weapon.  Now… are you going to just hover there, or kill that damn thing that thinks it’s still a dragon?_

Avexis narrowed her eyes and flew. The wind rushed by her scales, and she streamlined herself, to go faster yet.  She fired the balls, again and again.  She couldn’t seem to maintain them for long, but she willed them larger, shot them faster.

_You’re young, yet,_ the dragon mused.  _But you will learn. Watch!_ She opened her mouth and an endless stream of lightning burned into Avexis’ retinas, leaving afterglow that she couldn’t blink away.  Beside her, Morrigan tried as well, fire unleashing into the side of the doomed, tainted creature in a massive fireball.

And the archdemon fell, in a long, silent drift, aflame and sparking, until it hit the ground, far away from the Temple. Avexis turned back, pivoting on one wing. _To the Temple!_ She ordered Morrigan.  Too late, she realized Morrigan’s wing was torn.  _Land! Land now!  You’re injured, you’re…_

_I am aware, Inquisitor._ Morrigan flew down, and just before impact, transformed, collapsing into her human form, her connection with Avexis severed.

_I will go with her,_ her new acquaintance stated simply.  _I do not wish to cause a scene._ Avexis snorted, sparks flying from her nose.  _I will be gone, my friend, when you depart.  But... do not forget your promise.  I hope to see you again._

_Count upon it, my friend._ Avexis shook her head, and roared her defiance at Corypheus, now hovering at the peak of the Temple itself, and flew, spitting lightning.

Beneath her, she was aware of her friends, the scent of blood heavy in the air, cheering at her arrival. “Holy Void, she fucking did it!” Varric waved Bianca at her above his head.

“Take that, arsehole!” Sera spat in the dirt, and let fly a flurry of arrows, chanting ‘Arrow, arrow, arrow, arrow,” and then the elf fished in her belt and tossed a series of jars at the magister. “BEES!  BEES!  BEES!  AND SOME WASPS!”

Avexis laughed lightning at the magister as she circled, the blighted creature flinging his arms around his head in an almost human way of displacing the stinging creatures. He lit up like fireworks with her deadly breath.  His back arched as the shock grounded him, driving him to the stone floor of the ruined Temple.  Cassandra flanked him on one side, and Blackwall at the other, and they cut him down, until he fell to his knees, protesting weakly, and demanding assistance from his god.

“Dumat…”

Avexis felt an odd mental tugging, and landed, transforming far more gracefully than Morrigan, next to Dorian, who respectfully handed her his staff. “You should finish it, bella donna.  Don’t you think?  Go on, resurrect his dragon, and let’s have a little fun before we send him to the beyond.  I've always wanted to summon something that big.”

She whirled the staff around herself, checking the weight, and then shook her head, understanding what she had to do, with a single, sound voice in her head. “No,” her voice was hoarse.  “No, there’s only one thing to do.”  She handed it back to her friend, "Go ahead and do it, if you like, Dorian, but... I have to take care of this first.  Avexis stalked towards the magister, eyes narrowed with hatred.

“You wanted to get into the Fade?” She smiled, ferally, all pointed canines to match her ears, and held out her marked hand.  “Let me send you there.”  With a shredding scream, the magister dissolved into her hand, and she screamed as well, as she absorbed all his power.

The orb he held dropped from his now absent hand, rolling and cracking, and Avexis could only let it, falling with a crumpled heap to the Temple, now plunging back to Thedas with whistles of wind.

“Brace yourselves!” Cassandra ordered, and flung herself around Avexis’ prone form.

The impact stole her breath away like the pain from her hand hadn’t.

It was a few minutes before she realized how heavy Cassandra, plus armor, was over her body. She squirmed, and the warrior shifted herself back.  “Avexis, are you…”

“I’m… well,” she stumbled to her feet. “I’m… well.”  Her legs held her up.  “Is everyone else all right?”

Vivienne was dripping blood from her forehead, Varric holding his shoulder. Dorian was touching Bull’s cheek, murmuring and using what looked like a strip from his underarmor to bind up a leaking wound on Bull’s arm.  Sera was fine, sprawled out and cackling at nothing from her place on the ground.  Blackwall was already checking his sword for nicks.

They were all alive, and there, except for… Avexis’ feet took her to the lower level, turning corners too quickly for safety, until she found Morrigan, shifting to her feet and holding her ribs. The witch chuckled, “I am well.  Thank you for your concern.”  Avexis handed her a potion, and she popped the cork one-handed and drank.  “You have my thanks,” she smiled.  “We are victorious, it would seem?”

“We are,” Avexis glowed, triumphantly, rushing to support her friend. “You need a healer.”

“’Tis but a scratch.” The woman straightened.  “Your people approach, Inquisitor.”

Scout Harding emerged from the woods at that moment. “Inquisitor!” She saluted, arm across her chest.  “The demons are gone.  Is Corypheus…”

“DEAD!” Avexis announced, to the sound of cheers. “And your orders are to return to Skyhold, posthaste, Scout.”

“Yes, ma’am!” The dwarf grinned. “Did you guys happen to notice the dragons?  It almost looked like they were on our side… I swear I saw them attacking the archdemon!”

“I did,” Avexis mouth twitched, and she gave into a smile. “And they were.”

“Fancy that,” the Scout winked. “Who would have thought?”  She turned back to her people.  “You heard the Inquisitor!  Fix yourselves up, we march for Skyhold!”

“Inquisitor,” Cassandra’s address was formal, and tinged with a respect Avexis winced to hear. “What are your orders?”

“We’re going back to Skyhold, too.” Avexis made sure that the Scout had left the clearing before she turned.  “But I'm going the short way.”  She grinned, mischievously.  “Anybody want a ride?”

Vivienne shuddered, and Sera cursed. “Like the Void!  That’s just… scary wrong.”

“I’ll… pass,” Blackwall said cautiously.

Dorian pouted, “Bull is going. He’s severed an artery, and needs more than just an elfroot potion or four.  And he’s not going without me.”

Avexis nodded, “Anyone else?”

“I...” Cassandra braced herself. “I accept, Avexis.  There is still much to do, upon our return, and we should not waste time.  But do you have the energy?”

“I have enough to get us home,” Avexis backed away, “Stand back.” She let go, and fell onto her front legs, and then knelt.  Bull was the first, despite his injury, to approach, and then hoist himself up with a tug on her horns.

“Heh, now you’re the horny one, Boss,” he rumbled in her ear. “Get it?”

She tossed her head, to the sound of Cassandra’s “Ugh.”

Dorian climbed up next, bracing himself behind Bull. “I… wish we had a rope, or saddle, or something,” he joked feebly.  “Avexis, you should really plan ahead for this sort of thing.”

Cassandra climbed up, glaring deliberately into her eye. “If we are too heavy, you are to land immediately, so that you can rest.  Do you understand?”  Avexis blinked in understanding.  “Good,” the warrior settled herself.  “Can you move your wings?”

Avexis unfurled them, and had the joy of seeing Vivienne pale, far beneath her. “Wait,” Dorian stammered.  “Where’s Solas?”

Avexis shook her head, and launched herself into the air. “SHIT!”  Bull yelled.  “I WASN’T FUCKING READY!”  Cassandra nudged her, and gestured.

Far below, a single elf knelt by a broken orb, his body bent and defeated, as he cradled a broken piece in his hands. Avexis circled, and then landed again, at the top of the Temple.  He eyed her, and nodded in recognition.

“Inquisitor.” Even in this L'Oeuf was outwardly calm.

“You will not be returning with us, then,” Cassandra spoke stiffly.

“I will not. Our mission is completed, after all.”

“Very well.” Cassandra sighed. “I wish you safe travels, and sweet dreams, Solas.”

“I thank you.” He stood.  “Andaran Atishan, Inquisitor.”

Avexis inclined her massive head. _Goodbye, Solas._

“Goodbye.” She blinked.  Could he hear her?  But he was already leaving, not facing her again, and she let him go.

She braced herself one last time, and launched herself back up – this time to the sounds of Bull’s raucous laughter. “NOW THIS IS BULL RIDING!  TAR’SIDAATH AN SALAAM!  OUCH!  I’M INJURED, DORIAN!  STOP HITTING ME!”

“Stop staying that, pervert!” Dorian demanded.

“EH, YOU LOVE IT!”

“SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU!” Cassandra roared.

Avexis bared her teeth in a tense, draconish smile, and flew north, back to Skyhold, to face the consequences.


	74. Homecomings, Veiled Threats, and Sweet Everythings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The last chapter. NSFW towards the end.
> 
> Check out the notes at the end for information, if you want more of Avexis' World State.

Cullen watched from the battlements, as the golden dragon, flashing in the sun, drew closer. “We can take it,” Rylen insisted, hand clenched around the hilt of his broadsword.  “It’s not the biggest I’ve seen.  Kind of small, actually.”

“That’s what she said,” Bruce sniggered, and Cullen pointedly ignored him.

“We wait and see if it attacks,” Cullen ordered them both. “No point wasting the arrows, or the ammunition for the cannon.” He lowered the spyglass, something nagging at him.  “Still, I feel like I’ve seen…” he brought the spyglass back up, as the dragon landed, just on the other side of the bridge.  Framed by the rim of the lens, he saw three small dots take the form of people he recognized… was it carrying passengers?  “Merde,” he cursed, and ran out, yelling at the top of his lungs.  “HOLD YOUR FIRE!  ALL OF YOU!” 

It couldn’t be. It was impossible, but… that was Bull, and Cassandra, and Dorian on the back of the beast.  And it was kneeling, letting the passengers scramble down.  Was it Morrigan?  But then where was… his heart skipped with dread, his breath hitching in his chest.  She couldn’t be…

He made it down the battlements, out the portcullis, and across the bridge in record time, only to stop when he saw the dragon’s eyes.

Violet and Gold. That wasn’t Morrigan. She couldn’t be Morrigan. It was her. He’d know her anywhere **.**

“It can’t be,” he marveled, stepping closer, cautiously. “It… You’re…”

The clanking of armored foot soldiers came from behind him, but no… it had to be. He wasn’t seeing things.  Bull and Dorian and Cassandra were sliding down from _her_ back.  “Stand down, dammit. Now!” Wide eyed, he stepped even closer.  “Inquisitor?  Is it possible?”  He swallowed, and reached out a hand to touch her jaw.  “Avexis. It… it is you, isn’t it Ladybird?”  He laughed.  “Maker’s Breath, but you are _lovely_.”

The dragon – Avexis - closed her eyes, and sighed, and shifted into a woman. Cullen reached out his arms, and she stepped forward, to collapse into them. “Cullen…”

“Love, was that - was this what you couldn’t tell me?” Cullen stared down at her sun-bright hair, and laughed, again, thankful that it was only slightly hysterical, and his mind whirling before landing on something it identified as vaguely related to the bizarre situation. “So… about those dragon eggs you found in the Emprise, Inquisitor… I was thinking they should be studied.  Serault is traveling to Skyhold with them even now.  Purely for scientific research of course... what's another dragon around Skyhold, more or less?” 

Avexis stared up at him, clasping his shoulders to support herself. “You don’t mind?  Cullen…”

Cullen shook his head, and lifted her up, to swing her around. “You’re the most beautiful dragon I’ve ever seen.”  He pulled her close, loving the feel of her arms around his neck.  “You came back.  If it took becoming a dragon to come back...”

“I promised.”

“So you did,” Cullen held her tighter yet. “So you did.”

 

_< EotD>_

 

The party was far better than the ones Josie usually threw – it being full of all the little things Avexis loved. Little cakes, Starkhaven whisky, rich red wines that the Orlesians among the favored few were all too willing to gripe about, even while they downed as many glasses as were poured to them.

For herself, she ignored the more distinguished guests, in favor of drifting from friend to friend like a dandelion seed in a light breeze. For once, Josie would excuse her need to isolate herself.  Especially since Vivienne - soon to be confirmed as the new Grand Enchanter – was already spreading the news about her more sacrilegious talents, and the elves among the Inquisition wildly speculating about Solas’ absence, and her own role in it.

She was determined not to worry about such things. Her actions spoke for themselves, and she… she was above the Circle.  The voice that told that the Circle was where she belonged she squashed into submission.  Cullen, however, watched Vivienne with a worried frown, and she made a promise to herself to rub the wrinkles free later, when they were finally, blissfully, alone.

Maker’s breath, how much she longed for solitude, plus one.

The party was all but endless, though. No one seemed inclined to leave, even when the first pink of dawn began to bloom above the edge of the Frostbacks.  Bull poured his fifth stein of Maraas-Lok, and started another round of toasts, enthusiastically echoed by the Chargers, Dorian, and Sera.

Rolling her eyes, Avexis finally just decided to let them celebrate without her, and made her way to her room, noting Cullen was deep in discussion with a group of friendly Chevaliers. That was fine – they had a lot to discuss, it was nice to see him enjoying himself, and she could wait until…

“Excuse me, Inquisitor,” his voice was low, and pitched in a tone she had rarely heard outside the bedroom. She turned, arching her back against the door in a deliberate attempt to provoke him.  “But I thought… I thought I might claim a little more of your time.”

Avexis’ mouth went dry. His eyes raked down her form, as if he could see through the shiny dress armor to what waited beneath.

“By all means, Commander,” her marked hand – still occasionally sparking in pain – twisted at the handle on the door.  “Would you care to come up?”  She bit her lip, reddening it beyond the lip stain Josie had applied for the occasion. “Or, I suppose, we could take this to your office, if…”

Cullen's arm reached above her head, and pushed the door open further. “After you, love,” he whispered.  She backed into the tower’s stairwell, and he moved his wrist in a graceful twist to close the door, and then, deliberately, slid the wooden bar home in its bracket.  “There,” he smirked.  “It will be nice, for once, to not be disturbed, wouldn’t you say, Ladybird?”

Avexis picked up his hand, and pulled it, walking backwards. “Cullen…”

He moved to follow, steps stalking her. “I daresay we’ve both earned a few days off, yes?”

“A few… days?” Avexis mind spun.  “That long?”

“At least,” he murmured. “I think it will take that long to get you rested up enough to withstand what I have in mind for you, Ladybird.”  His hands came out, shaking, and rested on her hips, stroking the golden armor’s scales.  “You look so lovely, I…”

“I hate this stuff,” Avexis confessed. “Care to get me out of it?”

“More than anything,” he lowered his mouth to hers, working relentlessly until she opened, and then he backed away. “Room, first.  And then…”

Avexis grinned, “And then we figure out what happens next, oui?”

Cullen’s eyes glinted, “I do have a few… ideas. A potential strategy.  Care to hear it?”

“No. We’re aren’t talking work tonight,” she turned and Fadestepped up the stairs, her laughter echoing back down the stairs.  “Room, first!”

“Who said I wanted to discuss work?” Cullen’s footfalls were eager as he raced to follow her, but when she reached the top of the stairs, and saw her room, she stopped running.  “This is an entirely different sort of strategy, for a different set of plans.” 

Avexis held out a hand to stop him, when he reached her, eyes wide. “Cullen!  Did you…”

“Oh,” his feet came to a stop as soon as his head cleared the balustrade. “Who on Thedas…” she turned to look at him.

“You didn’t do this?”

She gestured to the roaring fire, bearskins spread out in front of it. Chocolates, cheeses, more of the little cakes, and fresh bottles of both wine and whisky on a low table nearby.  Flower petals scattered across the bed, turned down invitingly to reveal silken sheets.  A large book was open to show some interesting etchings, and candelabra flickered in the grey dawn’s light.

“I wish I had,” Cullen laughed, rubbing his neck and coming up to stand behind her. “But someone knew you were having a guest… how, when I didn’t know, myself?”  The last was grumbled, “I was trying to be impulsive.”

“I’ll go now,” Cole stepped out of the shadows by the closet, and drifted downstairs. “Cassandra will want her book back soon, though.”  He drifted down the stairs, face dreamy and distant.  “Enjoy your morning.”

“Cole,” Avexis turned and buried her face in Cullen’s coat. “I should have known it would be him…”

Cullen tilted her head up by her chin and sealed her lips with his, blocking out the rest of the words. He kissed her, hungry, catching her lower lip, and pressing her backwards.  Her hands scrabbled at his armor, but didn’t find purchase, her mind distracted by his demanding hands on her own.  He finally stopped, breathing hard.  “It would be a shame to waste Cole’s hard work, Inquisitor.”

Avexis grinned up at him, and offered her side to him. “Get me out of the fancy mail, then, Commander.”

“Cullen,” the man corrected, gently, his hands already busy. “We are no longer at war… Avexis.”

“That means there is even less reason for armor between us, Hot Templar,” she purred. He lifted the mail shirt up and away from her body, and laid it to rest on the floor. 

Underneath, a flimsy, sheer shirt did nothing to hide her bare chest, but Cullen’s eyes and hands dropped to her laces. Her trousers fell away, and she stepped out of them.  Cullen barked a laugh.  “You were… you went down to Josie’s party, bare-arsed?”

“I was wearing clothes!” Avexis flushed. “I just wasn’t wearing smallclothes.  I… didn’t feel like it.  Cassandra does it all the time!  She doesn’t even own a pair!”

“Demon,” he growled, and caught her up against him.

“Cullen… armor. It’s cold,” Avexis squirmed, and he shook his head, already unbuckling and shifting the metal away.

“I’ve been trying to stay away from you all night,” he instructed, in an almost too detached manner. “Watching you flit from friend to friend, avoiding all the Maker-be-damned cursed nobles on purpose… and don’t deny it.”  He pulled his shirt off over his head, and loosened his breeches.  Avexis eyed the patch between the laces and licked her lips.  “One spoke to you, and you turned the other direction.  I watched you try to ignore Viv’s little hints about reptiles and shapeshifting…”  Avexis flinched, and he caught her against him, chest now bare.  “It’s all right, Ladybird.  I meant what I said.  I am with you, no matter what your magic can do.”  His hands drifted up her sides, and she shivered.  “Come on.  Lay down by the fire with me.  I can’t believe how drafty your room gets.”

“You have a hole in your roof.”

Cullen laughed, “Touché.” He watched her sit by the fire, and pulled his legs free of his own clothing.  “Love, you are…” he shook his head.  “You are capable of so much.  It… it amazes me, how you were wasted in the Circle.  As a Tranquil, even as a mage!”

Avexis rolled her eyes, “No Circle talk. I won’t have it.  Viv will pull me back in, if I think about it too much.  I won’t go.”

Cullen ran a hand down her back, and settled it at the base of her spine. “I won’t let her.  Templars are supposed to protect.”

“You are no longer a Templar,” Avexis pulled his hand around and kissed the palm.

“I have a higher calling now,” he grinned, and braced himself over her as she fell back against the furs. “I may not know what happens next, love, but I know who it will be with.”

Avexis swallowed, “Cullen, are you sure…”

“Don’t ask if I’m sure.” He bent down, and touched her forehead with his own.  “I’ve never been so sure about anything.”  His eyes shone into hers.  “You are my everything.”

She sunk her fingers into the curls at the back of his neck. “I couldn’t ask for anything more, than to have you by my side.”

“Couldn’t you?” Cullen smirked, and kissed her.  “Funny, I’m… I’m getting rather greedy.  There’s a lot that I want, come to think of it.  A lot that I want to do with you…”

His mouth covered hers, gentle, but persistent, and Avexis arched up against him, eager and demanding. The fur rubbed at her back, Cullen’s hand caught at her breast, and his lips made their way down to her navel, on an unending journey to the heart of everything.  “Beautiful,” he whispered against her damp center, and she shivered.  “Shhh,” he breathed, and mouth to core, brought her to the edge of the world.

She felt him shift, grinding against the fur, and tugged at his head, trying to bring him back. “Cullen…”

Panting, he answered, and she rolled him, cradling him with a hiss between her legs. He cupped her left ear with a hand, tracing it to the tip and back, and she sank onto him with a cry, her hand still sparking between them.

She lost her gentleness, and all the slow debate of their lovemaking. She drove down onto him, pushing him deeper, until she could feel him bump her cervix.  She cared little about the ache, it merely pushed her for more of him.  She sank her teeth into his neck, licking the sting away when he grunted in surprise.  “Fuck, you feel good…”

She flew apart as he grabbed her hips, arched his back, and came, with a shout that echoed from the rafters and off the mountain peaks out her window.

She rode him until she was sated and panting, her hips stuttering, and him moaning underneath her.

Cullen was first to recover, fetching cloth and water to clean her up, laughing, as he touched the mark on his neck – too high for his collar. “No hiding that,” he flushed.  “Josie will have a fit.”

“Who gives a fuck?” Avexis stretched lazily.

“Not I,” Cullen wet the cloth, and wiped between her legs, rubbing his thumb against her most sensitive places until she swatted him away with a laugh. “Thank the Maker, there’s no need to hide anything any longer.”

“So say you,” Avexis slitted her eyes. “We’ll have to make a case for ourselves soon enough.  But for now…” she shifted to her side, and held out her hand.  “Help me up.  I want to watch the sun come up with you.”

Cullen smirked, “You missed it, love, while you were writhing around on top of me.” She swatted him again, and he helped her rise.

Avexis laughed, and grabbed for her discarded shirt, and pulled it over and went to the balcony door, leaning up against the sill. The breeze teased the hem around her thighs.  Cullen grabbed his cloak, and pulled it around both of them, nuzzling into her neck.  “Thank the Maker.”  She sighed, content, tilting her head to give him better access.  “Cullen, even if we missed the dawn, the colors are still there – look,” she angled her chin.

The dawn – and the swirling discolored scar of the remains of the Breach – colored the peaks across from them in a rosy blush and sparkling purple, while the last stars of the early morning yet twinkled in the sky, fading fast. “Very pretty,” Cullen muttered into her neck, single-mindedly working his own mark into her neck.  “But I prefer my own view.”

With a laugh, Avexis gave up trying to get him to look at the echoes of the dawn, and wrapped herself around him, hoisting her legs up and around his waist.

Cullen took her inside, and laid her out across her bed, bending down to devote himself to her service. “Je t’aime,” he murmured against her skin.

“I love you, too.”

 

_< Finis>_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued in a sequel that covers the Jaws of Hakkon, The Descent, and Trespasser. Follow the series – now known as ‘Dragon’s Daughter’. The sequel will be called ‘Dawn’s Tapestry’, but following either Iduna or I, or subscribing to the series will get you notified when it is posted as well – probably not for some weeks yet. I like to have a good chunk of chapters in a nearly final form, to keep my posting schedule steady. 
> 
> Also keep your eyes peeled for Varric’s version of Avexis’ Inquisition, called ‘Spinning a Story’, and the companion fic of related pieces, called ‘Loose Threads’.
> 
> And thank you for reading. You readers are the reason we keep writing. Your comments - even when they just say 'I laughed' - and kudos fuel our words.
> 
> I hope you'll join us again for the next series of adventures.


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